


Little Bird Lost

by makenalei



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 32,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makenalei/pseuds/makenalei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Post to AO3</p><p>It is pure luck that she is found at all.</p><p>The cell is dark, and appears to be empty; this is the last cell that they have searched, in the bowels of the Eyrie. Only the worst criminals would have ever been kept here.</p><p>The castle was reported to be empty; the last of the Arryn’s long dead. Petyr Baelish, Lord Protector of the Vale, was wanted for treason, and other crimes.</p><p>The Queen wanted his head.</p><p>The knight is therefore surprised, and slightly frightened, when he hears what appears to sob. He startles, and turns quickly with his torch.</p><p>The cell is still empty, or so it seems. He walks in further, and discovers another chamber within it, hidden behind a deceiving looking wall. Hidden in the corner of the newly found cell, is a trembling figure</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

It is pure luck that she is found at all.

The cell is dark, and appears to be empty; this is the last cell that they have searched, in the bowels of the Eyrie. Only the worst criminals would have ever been kept here.It had taken them weeks to reach the empty, frozen castle, though her Majesty was adamant that they do. She had wanted to see the castle herself, before giving it away to her nephew. The sky cells had intrigued her, as had the previous holder of the Vale.

The castle was reported to be empty; the last of the Arryn’s long dead. Petyr Baelish, Lord Protector of the Vale, was wanted for treason, and other crimes. He was nowhere to be found however.

Queen Daenerys is determined to have his head. That is why she led the envoy herself up the Vale, to the melting castle.

The knight is therefore surprised, and slightly frightened, when he hears what appears to sob. He startles, and turns quickly with his torch.

The cell is still empty, or so it seems. He walks in further, and discovers another chamber within it, hidden behind a deceiving looking wall. Hidden in the corner of the newly found cell, is a trembling figure. 

It is a young girl, bones jutting out from pale skin; a threadbare cloak hides her head and long hair. She is curled into a ball, face hidden. She is no more then a child, barely six years of age. 

“Hello?” The knight calls, careful not to startle her. The girl shrieks anyways, and cowers closer to the wall. The knight can hear her shackles as she moves. “I ain’t going to hurt you,” He tells her, inching closer. 

“No” Her voice is raspy from disuse. “Away” She begs.

“I’m with the Kingsguard, I am here to save you,” She shrieks louder, sobbing, pressing herself tight against the wall.

“Away, Away, No” She begs, her voice hard to distinguish between sobs. She keeps repeating it, until finally he leaves.

Another form enters the room a few moments later. This new person is female, with long blonde hair. She wrinkles her nose as she walks into the cell. It smells of death and decay. She observes the starved form of the child beneath her.

She has clearly been starved; only a little water remains in a pitcher a few feet away, and the crumbs of moldy bread.

“Hello?” The child startles in surprise at the female voice. She turns to the blonde with wide eyes.

“Can you speak?” 

“Please” The girl rasps, holding up her shackled wrists. The blonde kneels on the ground in front of her, reaching slowly for her. She pulls the hood off of her head.

The child is fevered, with flushed red cheeks and a covering of sweat across her protruding brow. Her face is gaunt, her breathing shallow. She has a large infected slash across her left cheek.

“Seven hells” She curses. The child is sobbing now.

“Sir, unchain her, make haste” The woman commands of the knight behind her. “Wrap your cloak around her” The girl shudders as the white clothe hits her skin. 

“Let me carry you” The blonde says, reaching for her shaking form. “You are not strong enough, it is a long climb. I shall bring you directly to a Maester”

She weighs almost nothing. She shakes in the arms of the Queen. 

“Check the rest of the dungeons, find more to assist you. I want to make sure they are all empty.” She orders the knight. 

“Yes, your Majesty”

The Maester estimates the child is around five years of age. She succumbs to a feverish sleep after being given milk of poppy.

“She shall recover in time. She is severely malnourished, she will require substance”

“And that awful cut on her cheek?”

“A dagger no doubt. It is not deep, but it shall scar”

The child moaned and cried out in her sleep.

“Shush, do not fret, love, you are safe here,” The Queen murmurs, brushing her hair from her forehead. “Have they found anyone else?”

“The castle is deserted” Her sworn shield murmurs from above her. “Lord Aegon is asking to speak with you.”

“Send him in, I shall not leave the child”

A few moments later, a blonde male enters the chambers. He smiles easily, and walks with an easygoing sway. The Queen is his Aunt, yet he himself is 2 years her elder.

“Aunt Dany” He mock bows with another smile. “Oh, hell, where did we find her?” He asks, noticing the child next to her in the bed. 

“In a hidden dungeon” 

“She is just a child though” 

“A child that has been starved, slashed, and locked in a basement” The Queen pointed to the linen pressed against the child’s small cheek. Aegon rubbed his face sadly.

“Any news of Baelish?”

“Gone, vanished.” The man sighed. “Must I stay here? The place is filled with death, corpses and ghosts”

“We need a leader in the Vale, Aegon” Dany reminded him. “The North is secure, the West is safe with Tyrion, Dorne will be secure with your marriage to Arianne, Stannis has bent the knee in Storm’s end, and the Tyrell’s are all but licking my feet in the Reach. So yes, you must stay here. Arianne shall arrive in a few weeks time, as will Tyrion, to help you manage everything.”

“Alright, alright. But it is much too cold here” Dany laughed, everything was cold compared to Dragonstone and Esso’s.

“That it is.” She agreed. “Is anyone missing from the few servants we found?”

“Everyone is accounted for, all seven of them. They say their Lord disappeared five days prior, without a word. No one saw him go. One maid, a Leila Stone, suggests he fell from the Moon door”

“Everyone suggests that” Dany sighed. “Has Drogon returned?”

‘Only Viserion and Rheagal have returned. Drogon will show up in his own time. Perhaps if his master was a little firmer in her handling of the brute”

“Drogon is not a brute. And they are all mine, you just happen to be borrowing one”

“Three Targaryen’s, three dragons. Do not be selfish Aunt” Aegon laughed.

“Yes well, Jon is not nearly as predatory with Viserion”

“Because Jon warms your bed as well,” Aegon teased.

“Watch your tongue, I am your Queen” This never worked with Aegon; he was determined to address her with as much informality as he could. He never took titles to heart.

“Yes your Radiance” Aegon looked to the child who was sniffling in her sleep. “Shall she awaken soon?”

“The Maester thinks so, children bounce back rather quickly” Dany replied. “I shall stay with her. Inform Jon, will you not?”

“Yes, my lady” Aegon bowed, saluted, and left his aunt to her own devices. She swept the child’s brow with a cool rag.

It took only two hours for the child to awaken.

The child seemed amazed at the new face, reaching for her long silvery hair. She twists her little fist in the locks, and giggled slightly. The Queen smiled.

“Do you know your name child?” The Queen asked.

“Pup” The girl’s voice is raspy. She was probably unaccustomed to speaking. The Queen figures it must be a nickname. She pats the linen on her cheek in confusion, trying to pry it away.

“No” The Queen gently removed her hand. 

“No” The girl repeated. 

“How many years have you?” 

The little girl holds up five fingers.

“Five?” The Queen asks in shock. The little thing looks much younger.

“Fi-ve” The girl repeats slowly.

“Where is your mother?” The girl looks around the room in confusion. She has a pinched expression on her face. She pats her cheek again.

“Gone” She tells the Queen after a second.

“Your mother is gone?” The girl nods. “Is she dead?” The girl shakes her head, patting her cheek again. Daenerys does not even know if the child understands a word she is saying. Her grey eyes start to droop, and the Queen tucks her back into the bed.

The Maester returns with more salve for her wrists and cheek, and draughts for her infection.

“Keep her comfortable. I want her healed as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, your Grace”

“I shall be with the King, in the solar. Alert me if anything changes”

She retreated to the best room in the Eyrie, the solar. It had a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains and villages. Her husband sat in a stuffed chair, his direwolf asleep on the carpet at his feet.

“Jon?” She whispered, careful not to wake the wolf. Ghost was testy when interrupted mid-nap. Her husband smiled up at her from his book.

“Hello, my Queen” He whispered back. “Come here” He motioned her over, allowing her to sink against him. The wolf rolled onto his back, snorting in sleep. “Aegon tells me you found a young girl in the dungeons?”

“She is scarcely six years old. She weighs less then three stone. She calls herself Pup”

“Pup?” Dany nodded with a slight smile.

“We cannot find her mother. Aegon is convinced that she is Lord Baelish’s bastard daughter”

“That he kept locked in the dungeon?”

“The world is a cruel place” Dany replied. “Aegon is also quite nervous of his impending marriage. You will talk with him, will you not?”

“I shall my Queen” Jon agreed. “Sam writes that Drogon was spotted two days ago, flying South”

“Oh bugger” Dany cursed. “That dragon has no sense, I swear it. He thinks that just because he wiped out the white walkers, and survived north of the wall, that he can call the North his home. He belongs here, with me”

“He always returns to you” He comforted. “Now, come, it is time to sleep”


	2. Little Pup

Pup, as she did not recall her true name, grew healthier every day, she began to gain weight; she looked her own age now. She was a striking young girl, with large grey eyes and red curls. Her cheek healed within a fortnight, leaving a pale raised scar. The child did not seem to mind it.

Ghost, whom she found after escaping from her room, enthralled her. She stumbled into the solar on accident, about two weeks after she found, around the same time that the Maester had declared her healthy.

Ghost napped on the carpet, Jon napped above him in his chair, a letter abandoned in his lap. Pup smiled at the large white dog. She approached carefully, and silently.

With one quick motion, she poked the wolf right in the middle of his eyes, with the confidence that only a child could manage in the face of the large wolf.

Ghost snapped open his eyes with a whine. Pup smiled, and patted his head.

“Good dog” she praised him. Ghost sat up straight, so that he towered over the crouching child. She stood, now eye level with the wolf.

“No” She complained, tugging on him to lie back down. Ghost neither complied nor grew offensive. He seemed amused by the child. She pulled a ribbon from her hair, a masterpiece the Queen had created, and tied it in a large bow around the wolfs neck. She giggled as she admired her work.

The wolf licked her face, chin to forehead. She giggled even louder, waking the man in the chair above her.

At first, Jon was startled by the sound of a child’s laughter. Then, as he opened his eyes further, and saw the child in question, he sprang to his feet.

“Sansa!” The little girl jumped at his voice, and cowered behind the dog. Ghost, to his surprise, growled at him.

The Queen, who was walking up the stairs, heard the commotion, and raced towards the solar.

“Oh” She stopped short as she entered the room. Little Pup was hiding behind the massive wolf, which was growling at Jon, who was kneeling on the ground, reaching for the child. “Pup, come here darling” The little girl, who had ripped the hem of her dress, raced to the Queen’s arms. Ghost settled, and walked back to Jon, who scratched his ears.

“Well, I guess we need to watch you a little closer” The Queen tickled the girl, who laughed and squirmed out of her arms again. She walked purposely back to Ghost. 

“Sansa” He breathed again, staring wistfully at the child. Pup’s head jerked up, a smile on her face.

“Jon, this is the child we found, Pup,” The Queen stated in confusion. “Not Sansa, she is too young to be Sansa”

“She looks exactly like Sansa did as a child” He reached for the child, and she hesitantly allowed him to pick her up. He placed her on his knee, looking into her grey eyes. “Except the eyes. Northern eyes they look. But the hair, and the face”

“Jon” The Queen sighed sadly.

“Look, she looks like a Tully” He whispered. Pup sat happily in his lap, in this position she could easily stroke the white fur of Ghost. The Queen knelt at her husband’s feet and reached for the girl’s hands. She did look an awful lot like Rickon Stark, whom she was told resembled Sansa Stark, whom she was told again favored her mothers Tully relations. But the eyes were not the trademark blue of the Tully’s, and the scarred cheek altered her image.

“Pup, this my husband, King Jon,”

“Dogs name?” Pup asked, reaching for Ghost’s white fur again.

“Ghost is a direwolf,” Jon told her. “He is dangerous, you must be careful” The girl nodded solemnly, and a little sadly. She had liked the dog.

“Mayhaps you could walk him downstairs and into the gardens?” Jon asked after a second. He wished to speak with his wife. The girl smiled largely and nodded.

“Ghost, to her. Stay” Jon whispered. Pup dragged the stoic direwolf from the solar by his pretty new bow. Dany watched with a smile as they left.

“She could be Sansa’s daughter. Baelish had access to her in King’s Landing. We know he was capable of it,” He whispered.

“She could be the daughter of Lysa Arryn, formerly Tully, and Petyr Baelish.” 

“But why would he lock his own daughter up?”

“It is unlikely that the child is Sansa’s. I do not wish for you to get your hopes up” His wife replied.

“Ghost followed her, he allowed her to pet him. He scarcely allows you to pet him” He pointed out.

“I shall look into it, I promise,” She whispered. Sansa Stark, the only remaining unaccounted for Stark, had vanished from King’s Landing six years prior, the night of King Joffrey’s death. She had not been heard from since.

“She reminds me of Arya in truth. Her looks are solely Sansa, but her demeanor is surely Arya”

“She is a little hellion, I agree” Dany admitted. “But that does not prove anything. I know you long to find her, but it is unlikely we shall ever know what became of her. We haven’t the faintest clue as to where she disappeared to after the murder.”

“And Pup has no clue as to how she got to the dungeon or what her mothers name is?”

“I believe she was born in the dungeon. The Maester says her skin has not seen the light of day for years, if ever at all”

 

Winter had ended, and summer had begun. Westeros expected a long summer, or prayed for one at least.

Two moons passed as the child gathered her strength. Arianne of Dorne arrived with her consorts and guards within a fortnight, and Tyrion Lannister descended on the Vale not a sennight after Arianne. 

Tyrion was as suspicious as Jon was of the child.

“She resembles your mothers family a great deal, save for those eyes,” He admitted. “Have you found no one who knows her?”

“One of the servants, a Mya Stone, remembers that Baelish had a natural born daughter that stayed with him for a few moons. She claims the child was much too beautiful to be the daughter of Baelish, and that the daughter, Alayne, disappeared after showing signs of being with child” The Queen told her Hand.

“Baelish had the means to smuggle Sansa from the Keep,” The Imp admitted. Jon nodded eagerly beside him.

“But she was married to you Tyrion, making this child yours” The Queen pointed out. “I do not see any resemblance”

“Lady Sansa and I never consummated our marriage. She was but a child, and I enjoy whores far more then children, hell I would enjoy celibacy more” The Imp spat. “Littlefinger had deceiving grey eyes, if memory serves”

“I do not wish to think of that scenario,” Jon muttered. Petyr Baelish had turned out to be an awful man. They had pinned the deaths of Jon Arryn, Lysa Arryn, Robert Arryn, and Eddard Stark on the man, not to mention countless others. He did not wish to add Sansa to that list.

“She pats her cheek every time her mother is mentioned” Tyrion remarked after a moment. “Curious thing, is it not?”

“Perhaps the mother slashed her, and then locked her up. She saw us advancing towards the castle, and fled.” The Queen mused. Jon refused to believe it. Catelyn Tully had hated him, and yet she had never slashed or locked him up. No mother would ever slash her child like that.

“I wish to take her to Winterfell with me” He told his wife. “To observe her interactions with Shaggy and Summer, perhaps Nymeria if she can be found” The Queen thought on it for a moment, before nodding.

“I knew you would wish to visit soon. Very well, but I shall accompany you” 

They left a two nights after that conversation


	3. Winterfell

The Queen suggested that they travel by Dragon, although the Imp was apprehensive. The child was ecstatic; she was beyond thrilled to be able to ride the large white Viserion. She refused to ride upon the fierce Black Drogon, so the Queen was forced to double with the Imp, while Jon was tasked with keeping the very squirmy child on with him. Ghost was forced to run alone.

It took till nightfall to reach the Northern boundaries. A snow was lightly falling, although most signs of winter had already melted in the summer heat waves.

“Snow” Jon stated for the benefit of Pup, who seemed to be confused.

“Snow” She echoed. Dany had found a Septa for the child, but her speech was still severely lacking.

“Cold” He shivered for effect. She giggled and repeated his actions.

“Cold” Gods, she even sounded like Sansa, he thought.

They landed just outside of Winterfell. When Dany and Jon had married, they had to build an enclosure for the dragons, but far enough away as to not frighten the Northerners, who were still wary of the beasts.

“How was the ride?” Dany asked she helped Pup down from Viserion. Jon landed in the snow next to them. The Imp was bemoaning his leg cramps and such as he tethered the Queen’s dragon.

“Snow” Pup told her happily. Dany smiled and nodded.

“Yes, it is snowing” She was more apt to try and teach the child sentences, while Jon favored simple words. It was how he had spoke with Rickon when he first appeared after the war.

“Snow cold” She smiled at the two words.

“Yes, snow is very cold” She pointed to her dragon. “Drogon likes the snow,” She said slowly. “Viserion” She pointed to the white dragon, “likes the warmth”

“Viserion white” Pup responded. Dany gave up with a laugh.

“Yes, and Drogon black” She picked the child up and placed her on her hip. “Come, let us go greet your cousins”

The walk was quick, and the Imp only complained a few times. Pup pointed to the trees and snow piles with laughs and shrieks. Dany laughed along with her. Jon was struck with the sad thought that they may never have a child of their own, he had heard the prophecy she had received prior to the war, but he was determined not to let it cloud his hopes. Pup reached for him as they approached the large castle.

“Winterfell” He told her, taking her from Dany's arms. “This is where I grew up Pup. This is my father’s home, and my siblings home now,” Dany always referred to them as his cousins, but Arya and Sansa would always be his litte sisters, just as Bran, Rickon, and Robb would always be brothers. Eddard Stark would always be his father, the man who raised him as his own, despite the wrath of Catelyn, his wife. 

After the war, Ser Barristan Selmy, came forward with the truth. He had served faithfully under Daenerys, and knew she was still searching for the third Dragon. He had been in the Tower of Joy the night of Lyanna Stark’s death. He had been with her for months, at King Rhaegar’s command. He knew that the bastard son Eddard Stark claimed as his own was in truth the bastard son of the former Dragon King, and his stolen northern wolf.

It did not matter to him much; Eddard Stark would always be his father, despite the truth. He still had his brothers and sisters though, and that would never change for him. The only good to come out of the revelation was his marriage to Dany. It was common practice in the Targaryen bloodline, not that he wasn’t a little disgusted by it at first. He had fallen in love with her before he had the truth though, before either of them had the truth.

“Jon?” He had reminisced too long. They were standing still in front of the castle. “Are you alright?”

“I am fine” He replied. He moved Pup to his other side. “Let us go in”

“Let me take her, you know Rickon shall pounce the moment he sees you”

Rickon met them mere seconds later. He raced from the castle, and straight into the arms of his brother.

“Jon!” He hugged him tight. He was barely 10 years old, and still a little wild in his actions. “Your Grace” He bowed to the Queen. He arched a brow at the sight of the child in the Queen’s arms.

“Rickon, this is Pup” Jon took Pup again, crouching so that she could better she Rickon. “Pup, this is my brother, Rickon” 

“Hello” Rickon said shyly.

“Hello” Pup echoed.

“She cannot speak much. She echoes what others say,” Dany explained. Rickon nodded and smiled.

“She has the same hair as me” He remarked. Rickon was only three years old when the Stark’s left Winterfell. He remembered Bran the best. Jon looked triumphantly at Dany.

“Rickon, where are Summer and Shaggy?”

“They left. Bran said Ghost was traveling north, that they left to meet him”

“Alright, how about we take this lovely reunion into the warmth?” The Imp piped up from beside them. Rickon smiled widely.

“Little man” He was now taller then the Imp, and teased him as only a child would. He ruffled his blonde head. “I bet you wish you never treated me as such” Rickon’s speech at least had improved. The Imp growled.

“I liked you better when you were a wilding” He replied.

Rickon brought them into the Great Hall, where Arya and Bran sat awaiting their arrival. He shook hands with Bran warmly, before Arya hugged him as tightly as Rickon had done.

“Hello Jon” She beamed up at him. Jon would bet that Arya’s beauty could rival Sansa’s now. She was their Aunt, and his mother, reincarnated.

“Little sister” He replied, ruffling her loose hair. She scowled, but allowed it. He noted with pride that she still kept her small sword tucked at her side. “Where is Gendry?”

“Stannis has him at Storm’s End” She remarked sullenly. “With Shireen dead, he is in need of an heir. He wrote to the Queen asking to have him legitimized”

“Is he ill?”

“I believe the death of his daughter and wife has left him unsettled. It was chilling really to seem the man so ill composed” Bran replied. He was always wise for his age. Jon noticed then that Meera, Bran's wife, sat cross-legged next to his chair.

“Hello Meera”

“King Jon, your Grace” She stood and curtsied, before turning to address the queen as well. Dany kissed Bran’s cheek, and hugged Arya warmly.

“Who is with the Imp?” Arya asked, peering over Jon’s shoulder.

“Ah, this is Pup” The Queen motioned her forward. She raced to Jon. In a very unladylike manner, Arya grasped at her chest and shrieked. Bran stayed silent, but his eyes were wide as saucers.

“Sansa” He breathed, just as Jon himself had done.

“She looks just like Sansa, save for the eyes,” Arya whispered. She approached Jon and the child.

“Pup, this is my sister, Arya”

“Arya” The little girl echoed. Arya smiled as the child reached for her sword.

“Sword” Arya pointed to it.

“Sword” Pup echoed. Arya smiled.

“Just like Rickon” She mused.

“Where did she come from?” Bran asked.

“She was found locked in the Eyrie” Dany whispered, smoothing Pup’s hair. 

“And her family?”

“She was the only one found” Jon replied.

“She could be Sansa” Bran stated. “She could be her daughter”

“That would make her his daughter as well” Arya replied. “She does not resemble the Imp.”

“How many times must I repeat this? Our marriage was a sham. The Queen herself has annulled it on the basis that it was never consummated” Tyrion sighed heavily. “You Starks will be the death of me,” He swore. “I doubt you have anymore need for me, so with your leave, I shall find myself a warm chamber and a skin of strong wine”

“Meera?” Bran asked. Meera nodded and stood.

“I shall see you to your chambers, Lord Lannister. I bid you all a good night, your Graces” She nodded to them all. 

“Goodnight Meera” Bran said cheerfully.

“Sweet dreams Bran” She replied, taking the Imp by his hand. They all heard him mutter something about bog people as they left the hall.

“So do we believe that the child is Sansa’s?” Bran asked.

“We are not sure” The Queen replied at the same time that Jon answered yes. The Queen shot him a dark look.

“She smiles when she hears the name Sansa” Jon told them. Pup smiled in his arms to prove his point. “Ghost does not fear her. I had hoped to see how she interacted with the others”

“Nymeria is around somewhere” Arya replied. She whistled loudly. Everyone flinched. “But where is Sansa if her child was found in the Eyrie?”

“I believe that Littlefinger smuggled her from the Keep the night of Joffrey’s murder” Jon told them. “Several of the Eyrie’s servants claim that their Lord brought his natural daughter to the Eyrie scarcely a moon after Sansa’s disappearance, and that she disappeared only a few moons later, appearing to be with child”

“And that ghastly scar on her cheek?” 

“She pats it every time her mother is mentioned.” Dany supplied, “Suggesting her mother cut her, herself”

“Sansa would ne-“ Arya was interrupted as Nymeria bounded through the doors, several scarred stable boys shutting the door behind her. Arya smiled and whistled for the wolf. Nymeria was the largest of the pack, save for Ghost. She had gold eyes and thick black fur. She sat at Arya’s feet like a tame puppy dog. Pup wiggled in Jon’s arms.

“Dog” She stated impatiently. Rickon laughed.

“No, she is a wolf” He stated. Jon knelt and released Pup from his grasp. She faced towards the new wolf, but Arya stopped her short. She picked the child up and brought her to where Nymeria was now lying down.

“Nymeria” Arya stated, pointing to the wolf.

“Nymiah” Pup tried.

“Nymeria” Arya prompted again.

“Ny-mer-ya” Pup was getting impatient to pat the fluffy beast. “Please” She grumbled reaching for the wolf. Nymeria inched closer, and nudged the little girls hand. Pup giggled, and wrapped her little hands in the dark fur.

“Big dog” She stated loudly. Nymeria allowed her to pull her down with her as she sat on the ground. “Good big dog” Nymeria was like a puppy in the little girls care. Arya smiled.

“Nymeria does not even allow Gendry to pat her,” Arya stated, standing now that the child was apparently safe. 

“This is not tangible proof,” The Queen protested. “I know for a fact that the wolves favor your brute of a sworn shield, and Meera, and Hodor.”

“So it stands to reason that little Pup is related to one of them or us,” Rickon stated.

“Rickon, that is absurd” Bran replied with a laugh. “I understand we all want her to be Sansa’s, so that we can still hope that she lives, but the chances are slim, and this one girls ability to tame the wolves is not proof enough. I agree with the Queen”

“But her looks as well!” Arya complained.

“Red hair, lots of people have red hair” He replied.

“I know she has something to do with Sansa” Jon told them. “She may not be her daughter, but she knows something, I can feel it”

They spent the rest of the evening in a comfortable chatter. Arya dueled Rickon with tourney swords, Bran showed the Queen his new chair with wheels, and Pup spent the night asleep against Nymeria, who looked pretty comfortable herself. When the time came to retire to the chambers, Pup was reluctant to leave her new dog.

“Arya, Nymiah, Pup” The little girl stated, crossing her arms. The Queen and Jon both looked to Arya.

“Can she stay with you Arya?” Jon asked.

“Oh” Arya seemed surprised. She looked down at the little girl, who reminded her so much of the sister she lost, that she agreed without thinking.

“She needs someone to warm her bed since Gendry left” Bran muttered under his breath. Arya quickly smacked him with the flat side of the tourney sword. Rickon laughed, not understanding the joke. The Queen tried desperately not to laugh, but failed. And Jon, poor Jon, Arya would always be his favorite little sister. Emphasis on little.

“Arya” He hissed.

“Oh calm down” She waved a hand. “We do not do anything” 

“You are only ten and five!”

“Ten and six” she retorted. “You missed my name day, it was two moons ago”

“Gendry will be a good choice for your hand once I legitimize him” The Queen mused. “Consider them betrothed”

“I shan’t marry him,” Arya muttered. “Stupid bull wants to be a bastard blacksmith til he dies”

“Why Arya, I had no clue you would only marry for station” Bran taunted.

“I do not have a choice, do I?” She asked.

“Enough” Jon stopped their bickering. It was true though. Arya needed to marry into one of the powerful houses. Bran had already chosen Meera, which only served to further ally Winterfell with the bogs, which were already quite loyal. Rickon would be betrothed to the first Targaryen heir, be it the child of Jon and Dany or Aegon and Arianne. “It is time to sleep little siblings. Shall you need a bedtime story?”

“We are not children anymore Jon” Arya stated.

“Then act your age” He replied. He hugged his little sister tightly.

“Do not worry yourself little wolf, I know that Gendry will do the right thing” She hugged him back and nodded.

“Goodnight little Pup” He hugged the little girl.

“Night” She echoed. “Dark”

“Yes, the night is dark little one” The Queen knelt to embrace the child. “Behave for Arya, will you not?”

“Will not” Pup echoed. Arya laughed.

“I like her” She announced. She swung the little girl onto Nymeria’s back, and the three trotted out of the hall.

“You wish to raise her as your own” Bran stated from his chair.

“We wish it, but she does not belong to us” The Queen whispered. She kissed Jon’s cheek. “I am going to retire. Goodnight Lord Stark, Little Lord Stark” She ruffled Rickon’s hair, and kissed Bran on the cheek before leaving the hall.

“When do the Queen’s guard arrive?” Bran asked.

“We traveled on the dragons, so perhaps a sennight, perhaps less if the roads are well” Jon replied.

“We have stationed more guards around the room you are in until they arrive”

“I thank you” Jon replied. 

“You really believe that Sansa is alive?” Bran asked after a moment. 

“I need to believe it” He replied solemnly. “She will never truly be dead until we no longer believe”


	4. The Sworn Shield

The next morning found the whole castle in chaos. Arya had awoken to find both Pup and Nymeria missing. 

This caused her to run quickly down the halls and into Jon’s bedchamber. She quickly informed the guards at the door that the King and Queen’s beloved charge was missing with her wolf. The three men scattered off into different directions. 

Jon, being married, was of course still abed with his wife. Naked, Tangled together. Arya suppressed the urge to gag before tossing a slipper at her brother. He flinched and his eyes sprang open

“Arya!” He yelled, waking the Queen. She lazily stretched and smiled at her good sister or good cousin.

“Good morning Arya, what brings you here this morning?”

“Pup and Nymeria were not in my bed when I awoke” She said quickly. The Queen vaulted from the bed, naked. Jon hastily tried to cover himself up. 

“I sent the three guards at your door looking for her”

“Good, help me tie these”

The Queen had lived among Dothraki, Meereen, Lyseni, and many other cultures. She was not shy. She threw a thick gown on, having Arya lace up the stays. She threw a long cloak over it, to hide her disshelved appearance. 

“Get dressed Jon” She yelled urgently.

“Arya” He said pointedly.

“Oh, you big prude” Arya grumbled. “Come on, your Grace, let us join the search”

Jon joined them ten minutes later.

He was paired off with one guard while Dany went with the other. The guards had not met Pup yet and did not know what she looked like. The knight Jon was with was Rickon’s sword shield. The young boy had happened upon him in the middle of the winter. Osha, his wilding companion, was ill with fever, and could not care for the five year old. The man had saved the youngest Stark, and for that, the Queen had pardoned all his prior crimes.

“She is about this tall” Jon gestured. “Long red hair. She has Lady Arya’s wolf with her”

“Little wolf bitch all in a dither over losing her pet?” The man taunted. Jon smiled despite himself.

“I’m not sure how you and Arya manage not to kill each other, Clegane” The Hound smiled, his burnt side scrunching up grotesquely.

“We duel. Lord Little demands we use tourney swords” The man stated. “Ah, there’d be the big wolf” He pointed to where they could see Nymeria’s tail.

“Hopefully Pup is still with her”

“Pup?” The man questioned. “You Starks” He muttered.

“We found her imprisoned in the Eyrie. She is only five years old”

“Aye, whatever you say, your Grace” They approached Nymeria slowly. She was a wildcard, regardless of whether she liked you or not. 

“Does the big wolf bitch have ribbons in her coat?” Clegane asked, bewildered. Jon snorted and nodded. He recognized the pink ribbons from one of the dresses Dany had gotten for her.

“Little Pup tames her, and watch your language, the child could be in earshot.” Jon whispered back. 

“I don’t see no little pup,” The Hound grumbled. Nymeria sat in the middle of a break in the wall. You could go left or right.

“I’ll go left” Jon replied. “The rose gardens are this way”

“And the damn sept is right, with its damned incense” The Hound spat. The sept had been untouched by the torching of Winterfell during the beginning of the war. It remained as a shrine to the Lady Catelyn. No Stark stepped foot in there any more.

“She’s a friendly child. If you find her, bring her to the Great Hall”

“Aye, I’ll be the good sword shield. You Starks will kill me either way” He grumbled and set off down the path to the Sept.

He had only known one person who visited a sept daily. She had always liked the Sept, was always disappearing to the retched place. He entered the small place and shuddered. It had a thin layer of dust over everything. He saw small footprints.

Blasted, the child is here. He spied stocking clad feet from behind a tapestry. He could hear giggles from behind it.

“Come on out girl” He growled. The child barked at him. “Don’t make me drag you out,” She barked again. “Come here, dog,” He whistled, humoring the child. After spending years with Rickon Stark, he had found this was the best way to deal with children.

“Woof” The small child had wrapped furs around her torso, legs, arms, and face. She jumped out from behind the tapestry on all fours. “Woof, woof” She tried to growl, but it sounded rather weak.

“Alright little girl, the King and Queen wish to see you” 

“Pup”

“All right little pup, the King and Queen still wish to see you” He told her again. She started off in front of him, fast on all fours. Once she got out of the Sept and into the stone corridor, she nicked her palm on a jagged stone. She sat flat on her bottom and stared up at him. With the furs, he couldn’t make out her face, but could hear the pathetic whimpering she was making.

“Seven hells” He muttered under his breath. She held up her little fur-covered arms. He sighed again and picked her up off the ground. At least she was lighter then Tommen and Joffrey ever were.

He carried her like a sack of potatoes into the Great Hall. 

“Pup!” The Queen raced to her little pet and grabbed her from his arms. The little girl whimpered and presented her tiny cut to the Queen, who frowned at him.

“She did it herself, your Grace,” He rasped. “Using her hands to walk on the stones”

“Does is hurt much?” The Queen asked.

“Hurt” The little girl echoed. 

“Is that a direwolf cub or a little girl?” The King asked, walking into the hall. The little girl perked up and raced towards the king.

“Did you find her in the Sept, Hound?” He asked.

“I ain’t no Hound, no more,” He rasped. “She was playing wolf”

“Hound” The little girl repeated.

“Her speech is not so eloquent.” The Queen told him. “She tends to echo what those around her say”

“Aye” He muttered. 

“So the Hound found little Pup, how befitting”

“Wolf lost pup, how befitting, my Lady” Clegane retorted.

“She stole all my furs” Arya complained. “I was looking for the one about her leg this morn” 

“Pup is dog,” The child barked.

“Pup is a dog, but Pup is not a dog. Pup is a little girl,” The Queen corrected. “Pup is a little girl”

“Pup little girl” 

“Very good”

“Hot” She complained, tugging at the bindings holding the furs to her. The King sat her upon the table, and started to untie the thick furs. She had what she slept in still on, a pair of Arya’s too small breeches, and a white tunic. The fur was removed from her hair, allowing her red ringlets to fall to her back. She smiled up at the King.

“Ah, Clegane, you met Sansa in the King’s Landing, correct?” Jon asked, picking the child back up, and facing the burly man.

“Aye” He sounded even more raspy, his throat had gone completely dry. “I did”

“Tell me, does she resemble her?” He turned the furless child to the Hound. The Hound was speechless for a moment. “Well?”

“Aye” He croaked. “Except the eyes, and that scar,”

“Scar” The little girl patted her cheek. “Ouch” She wiggled out of the King’s arms, and approached the large man. Most children had feared him. She stretched out her arms again. He looked to the King, who nodded. He picked her up gently, holding her at arms length at eye level. She reached forward and pressed her small hand to his ruined cheek. “Ouch” She repeated.

“Aye, little bird, ouch” He muttered


	5. Gone

Another moon passed at Winterfell. The Queen had left after a fortnight, but the King and Pup would stay for another full moon before heading back to King’s Landing.

Pup found a friend in Rickon’s sworn shield. Like her enthrallment with the wolves, Sandor Clegane mesmerized her.

She was not afraid of the burly, scarred man. She made him play with her in the Sept, tying furs to his armor, and allowing Nymeria to chase him. For his part, the Hound was rather docile with her. Just as she had done with Nymeria and Ghost, she had tamed the beast.

On the Hound’s part, he had become quite taken with the child. She looked like the Little Bird had, before King Joffrey had torn her apart, beating her and degrading her.

“I’m no one anymore. I will never marry Joffrey; I will disappear into the cracks. They do not need me anymore “

He remembers her telling him that just a few days before the Battle of the Blackwater.

“I pray that he perishes in the battle” She had admitted. “But I pray that you survive”

And he repaid her by holding a knife to her throat and forcing her to sing for him. He had been drunk on wine and fear of the fire; he had kissed her soft lips, and begged her to leave with him. He did not wish to know what her fate would be without him to protect her. So he would protect this miniature Sansa, this little girl who resembled her so much, yet differed in many more ways.

“Clegane” The King barked, as he sat lost in his thoughts. The little Pup had been tugging at his tunic for several minutes now. 

“Aye, sorry little bird” She simply smiled at him.

“Up, please” She told him. He hoisted her up next to him on the bench.

“I do not see what she sees in you Hound” Arya retorted. It was just the Stark family, the King, Pup, the Imp and the Hound at the table. In the summer years, Winterfell’s halls were deserted. When the Hound had first arrived with Rickon, the little boy had refused to leave his side. Now, it was normal to have the burly sworn shield at the table with them.

“Your just jealous because she likes him better then you” Rickon retorted.

“So are you,” Arya replied. “Besides, Gendry shall arrive in a nights turn or two. I sent Nymeria out to greet him”

“More like frighten him to death” Bran muttered. Meera laughed quietly beside him. The bog girl stayed away from Pup, who enjoyed barking and growling at her.

“Nymeria, gone” Pup glared at Arya.

“But you have Summer and Shaggy” Jon consoled.

“Gone” Tears were pooling behind her grey eyes. “Gone, gone, gone” she patted her cheek as she repeated the words, until the Hound grasped her hands and forced her to stop.

“Stop that blubbering little bird, you’ll worsen that scar,” The Hound muttered, messing up her red curls.

“Little bird, gone, gone” She parroted. 

“Do you want a lemon cake Pup?” Rickon sat next to Pup. He passed her the little pastry. 

“Lemon cake” She smiled again, tears forgotten. 

“Sansa loved lemon cakes,” Arya muttered.

“Sansa, gone” Pup chewed with her mouth open. “Little bird, gone” All the Starks looked to her now. She continued to stuff lemon cakes into her little mouth.

“Where did Sansa go, Pup?” Jon asked, leaning towards her. 

“Gone” She repeated. 

They did this almost every night, though it never changed. Pup would eat her lemon cakes, say something about Sansa, and then repeat gone until she was in tears.

“Sleepy” She rested her head to the left, leaning against the Hound. 

“I’ll carry the little bird to her chamber” The rest nodded. Her nursemaid would be waiting for her in the room. The little girl wrapped her arms his broad shoulders and clung while he stood. Once the two were out of earshot, the whispers began.

“He used to call Sansa little bird” The Imp mused aloud. “I remember him calling her that when he saved her from the crowds in King’s Landing”

“You are not suggesting that he spirited her away from the Keep, are you?”

“Heavens no, he was gone already by then. A moon past, perhaps a fortnight gone. He protected your sister, from Joffrey and the other Kingsguard. I never once saw him beat her as the others did”

“He ordered knights to beat her?” Bran whispered, shaking his head.

“He did a lot of awful things,” Arya whispered. “Like beheading father in front of her. Yoren turned me away, but Sansa was forced to watch. I could hear her screams as we ran from the square”

“The Hound can provide a better timeline of what happened after your sister was left alone in King’s Landing. Have you never asked him before?” Tyrion asked.

“That would be a wise idea” Meera spoke up. She excused herself as she usually did when the topic of Sansa arose. Bran claimed it was because she had lost her brother, and unlike Sansa, there was no hope of his return. 

“Well shall ask him when he returns. Arya, behave” Jon warned.

“You may be the King now, but in the walls of Winterfell you shall always be my elder brother, nothing more” Arya quipped, smirking at him. “Elder brothers were made to be disobeyed.”

Jon ruffled her hair, she slapped his hand away. Rickon jumped up to join in the mock fight, while Bran and the Imp watched in amusement. The Hound entered the room and frowned. He picked Rickon from the pile by the back of his tunic. The little boy squirmed and kicked.

“Hey!” He struggled.

“You ain’t a wilding anymore boy” The Hound placed him back on the bench. Arya had quit after shoving mashed turnips at the King, while the King glowered.

“We were just playing” Arya retorted.

“Aye, but the Little Lord needs his manners, don’t he?”

“As does the King” The Imp added. “He was the one who started it” The Hound just shook his head and sat at the table. He took a large gulp from his goblet.

“Clegane, we want you to tell us what happened in King’s Landing after our father died” The King told him. The Hound spat out his wine and started to choke.


	6. Chapter 6

“Clegane, we want you to tell us what happened in King’s Landing after our father died” The King told him. The Hound spat out his wine and started to choke. He finally managed to calm himself, looking in confusion at the king.

“What happened?” He rasped.

“Yes. We know that Joffrey would beat her, the times that the Imp witnessed at least. But you were the King’s sworn shield, surely you saw her more then Tyrion?”

“Aye, I did,” He stated. 

“Then, let’s here it” Arya pushed. He glared at the little wolf.

“It ain’t a pretty tale,” He grumbled. “She was a hostage of war,”

“We just want the truth, no matter the details, we need to hear it” Bran told him seriously. The boy was much too serious for his liking.

“Aye, I’ll tell you.”

“Start after father died” Arya commanded.

“Joff took her to see your fathers head on the spikes, along with a septa of yours. He forced her to look at him for several minutes. He said as a gift he would present her with her brother’s head, and she replied that perhaps she would receive his instead.” He chuckled at that. “That was the first beating. Ser Meryn slapped her around.”

“And you did nothing to stop him?” Arya asked, disgusted.

“I wasn’t about to loose no head over two slaps” The Hound replied. All the Starks looked equally disgusted with the man. For once in his life, he felt shame. The Imp understood that he was powerless, so he urged him to continue.

“She approached him on the catwalk. I saw it in her eyes; she was going to push him over. I stepped in, it wasn’t worth her death.”

“She would have been a Kingslayer” Rickon whispered. “Does their betrothal make it a Kinslaying as well?”

No one had an answer to that.

“She would keep to herself in her room, with her maids and Lollys Stokeworth. The King would want to play every once in awhile, so he would have her brought to him. He would show her his new crossbow, or his new dagger. He would frighten her, until she spoke out of turn, when one of the knights would slap her again.”

He could see the fear in her blue eyes as she realized that she had said the wrong thing. Tears welled behind them, but she did not allow them to fall. She would wrap her arms around herself, looking to him in terror, never breaking eye contact as the chosen knight kicked and smacked at her. She would eventually fall to the ground. Joffrey would command his Hound to return her to her rooms. He would always wrap his cloak around her shaking frame, and try to quiet her gasps of breath.

“And you allowed her to be beaten?” Rickon glared at him. He had never seen such hatred in the eyes of his young charge.

“I’m just a dog, little wolf,” He muttered, rubbing his face. “I couldn’t have saved her, not from them”

“You could have, you had the strength to steal her away” Rickon muttered. “You saved me, you could have saved her”

“Aye, but the little bird didn’t want to leave with me, did she?” He spat. “I offered, when I fled from the Blackwater Battle, but she was too frightened, too scared. She wasn’t to marry Joff anymore, she thought they would let her go”

Her eyes, wide as saucers, as she begged him to stay with her, not to leave her.

“Please” She whispered. “You are all I have left”

“I deserted command Little Bird, my heads going on a spike if they ever see me again”

“Beg them, tell them you were injured, your wits knocked about. Lie. Just don’t leave me, please”

“I could keep you safe,” he rasped. “They’re all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I’d kill them.” She looked scandalized.

“I cannot go stealing off in the middle of the night with a disgraced sell sword” She spat.

He held the knife to her throat, forcing her to sing for him as the flames burned green outside her window. Her voice never waivered as she sung, but she trembled like a leaf in his arms. Somewhere in the middle of her song, he had lowered the knife, but she kept singing. As she ended her song, she reached up to his bloody cheek.

“Please, stay” She whispered, tears leaking from her blue eyes. The candlelight made then shine brighter.

He bent and kissed her softly, before leaving, never to see her again.

“You offered to take her?” Jon asked in surprise.

“Aye, and she refused, said she couldn’t go running off with a disgraced sell sword” He rasped.

“And then you left” Rickon stated, an accusing tone to his voice.

“I fled, and I saved your other sister, and then I found you,” He grumbled. 

“Yes, we know that you saved majority of the remaining Starks” Jon interrupted, “And it is not his fault, Rickon, that Sansa is missing”

“He could have saved her!”

“Rickon, you don’t remember Sansa very well,” Arya stated quietly. She seemed to be thinking. “She wasn’t like you or I, she wouldn’t have wanted to leave. She would have been afraid, scared to death.”

“So you left her with the Lannisters” Rickon stated quietly. “Then what happened to her?”

“We were married a few days later” Tyrion interjected. “My sister heard noise that she was going to be married to Willas Tyrell. My father interceded and she became a Lannister”

“And then she disappeared?”

“It was the night after Joffrey’s murder. When I woke up the next morning, she was gone, and I was arrested for treason”

“If Pup is five, that means that she was conceived around the time that Sansa disappeared,” Jon murmured.

“How many times must I tell you?” Tyrion frowned, “I never touched the girl”

‘I believe you” Jon told him. “Besides, if Pup was a Lannister she would be blue or green eyed with lighter hair”

“Petyr Baelish had grey eyes and dark hair” 

“I don’t want to think of that as a possibility”

“She met in the Godswood with Ser Dontos often” The Hound interrupted them. “She saved the fool,”

“Ser Dontos Hollard?” The Imp muttered, “His charred body was found days after Lady Sansa disappeared. He was only recognizable by the iron pendant he always kept in his pocket everything else was burned. Cersei accused me of his murder as well,”

“Who is Dontos Hollard?” Arya questioned, frowning, “I’ve never heard of a Ser Dontos”

“House Hollard was a vassal of House Darklyn. After the Defiance of Duskendale, both houses were eliminated. Dontos was only a young child, Ser Barristan begged clemency,” Jon told her.

“He was trained and brought up by Barristan the Bold, and he turned out to be a no good drunk” Tyrion muttered.

“We have to find her” Rickon stated, “She’s part of our pack, and the pack that stays together survives”

“Yes it does, little brother” Arya ruffled his hair. “We will just have to renew our efforts”

“Yes, but where to start?” Tyrion questioned. “Ser Dontos is a dead end, he’s dead”

“Aye, but what killed him?” The Hound rasped. “Lady Sansa obviously did not”

“True” Tyrion agreed, “He was clearly working for someone”

“But who?” Rickon demanded, “And why did Sansa go with them?”

“She wouldn’t go with you, Clegane, why did she leave with this person?”

“She had to have trusted them” Jon whispered, “It had to be someone she knew she could trust, someone father or Lady Catelyn had trusted”

“Someone like Petyr Baelish”


	7. Chapter 7

The more they all thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Sansa had been spirited away by the slimy Littlefinger.

What remained to be solved was how to find him. They patched together a weak timeline of his escape.

They knew from the servants in the Eyrie that Baelish left five days prior to their arrival. Based on what was found in Pup’s cell, and the state of her slash, it was probably that only Baelish knew the child was there and slashed her, hoping she would die from her wound before they found her.

They had searched the entity of the Vale and the Riverlands, the two places that were connected to the slippery man. No one had seen him. It was unlikely he would go North, so they assumed he was heading to the capital or the Stormland’s, perhaps even to Essos.

The King decided to send out small search parties from Winterfell. There would be three in total. One would travel by land to the Vale, in the off chance that Baelish went North. Another would take a vessel to the capital, and the last would sail east to Pentos. It was well known that the former master of coin was still in great debt to the Iron Bank of Braavos, so it was unlikely he would go there. The other free cities did not seem as likely as Pentos did. 

Arya had volunteered to go east. The King had agreed with the stipulation that Rickon’s sword shield would go with her. The two of them would manage well on their own, granted that they did not kill each other first. Nymeria was kept in Winterfell as a precaution. 

Tyrion would lead the group of the royal guard to the capital since they had to travel that way anyways. 

Gendry had been roped in to traveling south down the Kingsroad with Rickon and other Winterfell guards.

Even if it turned out that Sansa had not been kidnapped by Baelish, the man still had to answer to the crimes against the innocent little girl they found in his prison, not to mention the annihilation of the Arryn family.

Pup did not take the loss of her favorite people well.

Tyrion and his group left first, they were needed back in the capital anyways. 

“Send word as soon as you dock” Jon told him, cuffing his shoulder, as the party got ready to leave for the port.

“No” Pup cried, reaching out to Tyrion, “No go little lion” To the horror of most, the little girl had picked up on one of Rickon’s terms for Lord Lannister. Tyrion did not seem to truly mind; he was never cross with the little girl. It wasn’t the worst thing he had been called, and the child meant no ill will with it. She always called him it with a smile and accompanied it with a hug.

“I will see you soon, little pup,” He told her, tweaking her nose. She giggled and nodded. “And I will say hi to Dany for you, yes?”

‘Dany, yes” Pup nodded, smiling again.

Gendry and Rickon’s group left next. Pup was in tears at the loss of her two friends. When Gendry had arrived a sennight past, the little girl was enthralled with his bull’s helm. She liked to watch him work in the forge, amazed by the magic he performed. 

And of course Rickon was one of her best friends.

“No go little wolf” Like most things she learned, Pup picked up her nicknames from those around her, and this one came from Sandor Clegane. 

‘I have to, little pup” He told her, “Next time, when you’re older, you can come too, okay?”

“Okay” Pup nodded. She turned to Gendry and Arya who were saying goodbye to each other.

“Pup say bye” She told them, reaching out her hands. Gendry picked her up, laughing as she reached for his bull’s helm.

“No, that is mine” He told her.

“Mine”

‘Mine”

“Mine”

“Enough” Arya took her from Gendry’s arms. “Say bye bye, little pup”

“Bye bye bull” Gendry sighed as he was wont to do when the little girl called him that. Arya grinned victoriously. Upon arriving at Winterfell, Gendry had noticed how the child called everyone by nicknames, usually those that others used. He was determined to have her call him by his given name, not the loving terms Arya usually threw at him.

At least the little girl hadn’t picked up on the stupid or bastard portions of Arya’s lovely nicknames.

“Bye, little pup. Be a good girl for Arry, will you not?”

“Will not” Pup grinned, waving as the party grew smaller and smaller as they got farther and farther away.

The day finally came that the little girl would have to say goodbye to two of her most favorite people in the world.

“No go” She stomped her little foot as Arya and the Hound saddled their horses.

“We have to go, little pup” Arya told her, bending to her level, “But we will be back”

“No Arry” Pup whimpered. She always called Arya Arry. She had gotten that from Jon and Gendry.

“Nymeria will be here for you”

“No want Nymiah” She pouted.

“Hound, your turn, I can’t take it” Arya grumbled, passing the little girl off to the scarred old brute.

“No go big pup” She told him, reaching out to pat his burnt cheek. No one knew where that nickname came from, no one certainly called Sandor Clegane that. “Kay?”

“We have to go, little bird,” He told her, sitting her atop of Stranger’s saddle. “Okay?”

“No kay” She grumbled. “Stay”

“We can’t little bird,” He told her, ruffling her red hair, “How about we make a deal? I’ll take you for a ride, if you promise not to cry and pout when we leave”

“Ride?” The little thing perked up. She loved riding on horseback. “Yes”

“Yes, what?” Arya called.

“Yes, please” The little girl amended.

“Aye, but you have to promise not to cry”

“Promise” She nodded, smiling in anticipation

“Alright, let’s go” He swung himself up behind her, wrapping a strong arm around her little frame. 

“You better be back in time!” Arya called as they trotted out of the stable.

He kicked Stranger into a faster pace as they left the stables and out of the nearest gate, into the northern wildness.

Everything was green and fresh. The little girl laughed as they raced through the wood, the wind whipping her red hair back.

“Faster!” She screeched. He smirked briefly and spurred the horse on.

The raced around several paths before making their way back to the castle. Arya and the Hound had a ship to caught anyways, they couldn’t miss it.

The King, Bran, Meera and Arya were waiting just outside the castle, Arya already mounted on her horse. Sandor stopped a little ways away and dismounted, letting the little girl lead the horse to the awaiting party like she always did.

“Down” She called, waving her hands towards Sandor. King Jon watched with a smile as the little girl laughed and giggled, clearly enjoying herself. The sworn shield passed her to him.

“Pup, it’s time to say goodbye,” Jon told her softly. The little girl instantly pouted, burying her face in his chest.

“We’ll be back soon, Pup” Arya told her, stroking her back. She hugged him gently, whispering her goodbyes. She hugged Bran next, and then Meera.

“Will you not give me a hug, Pup?”

“Will not” She mumbled against his chest.  
“Pup” He urged, turning her in his arms. She jumped towards Arya, wrapping her arms around her neck just in time. Arya squeezed her back tightly.

“We’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Not kay” She told her. Arya smiled and kissed her forehead, putting her down on the ground. The little girl looked up to the nearly 7 foot tall sword shield, her lower lip trembling.

“Hey” Sandor knelt, and tilted her chin up, “What did we promise about pouting”

“No pouting” She told him, but continued to pout.

“Come on, smile girl”

“No”

“You promised not to pout. You going back on that promise?” The little girl stuck out her tongue instead.

“Better” The scarred man laughed. The little girl surprised him by throwing herself into his chest. He caught her before she bounced back from the impact. She clung to his leather jerkin, her little hands turning white from the force of her grip.

“No go, no go” She sobbed.

“Hey, no crying either, little bird” He rasped softly. He stood with her still in his arms.

“Miss” She mumbled.

“Aye, I’ll miss you too, little bird” He told her. “But Pup is a fierce little wolf, isn’t she?”

“Grr” She growled weakly.

“That didn’t sound very scary” He teased.

“Grr!” She growled, her tears stopping.

“Now that is scary,” He told her, “A fierce little wolf does not cry when there is nothing to cry about. We will both be back soon, we promise, okay?”

“Kay” She nodded. She gripped his cheeks, both the smooth and the burned one, between her pudgy little hands and dragged him forward to kiss his between his eyes.

“Be a good little lady,” He told her, passing her back to Jon. “Bye, little bird”

“Bye, big pup” She called as they rode off towards White Harbor.


	8. Chapter 8

Gendry was not too thrilled to be back on the road again. To top it off, the youngest Stark seemed eager to get to know him, and even worse, know his intentions towards his elder sister.

The boy was barely ten and one, who knew how much he even understood about the bawdy jokes he knew the boy's sworn-shield and even Bran joked about.

“Bran says you warm Arya’s bed. What does that mean?” Several of the guards snorted on their wine and laughed. He glared at them. Rickon noticed them too.

“Let’s go to your tent, Lord Rickon” He stated. Rickon gave him a funny look but followed him into the tent.

“Do you just warm her bed for her and leave? That seems like an odd job” Rickon rationalized. “And why won’t you let Dany legitimize you? Do you not want to marry Arya?”

He stared at the boy in silence.

“Well?” He prompted.

“Erg, well,” He stammered, “Uhm, a bed warmer is someone that sleeps in the same bed” He told him.

“But that isn’t proper” Rickon argued.

“No, no it’s not,” He agreed.

“But Arya isn’t very proper either” Rickon shrugged. 

“No, she isn’t” He smiled, “Arry and I went through a lot of tough times together. We got used to sleeping next to each other, I guess”

“I get it” He nodded. “But why wouldn’t you get legitimized so you can marry her? Jon says she has to marry a high Lord. I get to marry his kid or Aegon’s” Rickon frowned.

“I’m a bastard, not a high lord” He grumbled.

“Jon was a bastard,” Rickon tells him, “And now he’s a king”

The smug look on Rickon's face makes Gendry realize he cannot refute that statement. Jon had been raised a bastard, and he was a bastard, Gendry realized, but Jon was the bastard of the Targaryen's and Stark's. Gendry was the bastard of a tavern wench and a drunk king. Jon had been raised by the honorable Lord Stark, not a dirty blacksmith named Mott.

Rickon begs leave to bathe in the marshes, and Gendry joins the rest of the guard around the fire. The two do not speak again that night.

Gendry goes to bed thinking about what becoming a lord truly means. Rickon goes to bed wondering if he remembered everything Bran had told him to question the blacksmith about.

Many leagues south, Tyrion and his guards have arrived in the Stormland’s. He sends a raven to the capital, and another to the North.

He starts off in the inns just off of the Kingsroad. Baelish is not a friendly name down here, and he does not doubt the truth when people tell him that the man has not been seen in these areas for ages.

It seems he owes half the continent golden coins. No wonder the man fled.

Sitting around the fire that night, one green knight manages to muster up the courage to ask him about his former lady wife.

“Are you still married to Lady Stark, Lord Lannister?” The boy asks, “Is that why we’re looking for her?”

“No, Corbrey, I am not married to Lady Stark any longer” He grumbled, glaring at the lad that couldn’t be older then ten and five.

“Hendry says she’s a real looker,”

“Does he?” He turned to the guard named Hendry. The man was a former Vale hedge knight; they had found him on their journey through there. He had proved most competent, save for his foul tongue and lewd behavior when drunk. “And where did you have the pleasure of seeing my former lady wife?”

“In the capital, my lord” Hendry managed to tell him, “I went to find work there just before Lord Stark was executed”

“Yes, Lady Stark was a beautiful girl, and no doubt she is even more beautiful now” He told them, “But we are not interested in how pretty she looks, we are interested in finding her alive, and bringing her home. I will have no one besmirching her good name, is that clear?”

“Yes, my lord” They both stammered.

Tyrion sighed, rubbing his forehead.

Sansa Stark had been a striking girl. She had hair like fire, eyes that shone like the narrow sea, skin as pure as the northern snow she was born in, and all the other womanly graces that others envied. His own sister had envied the girl, and she was not yet a woman at the time. Sansa Stark was not someone you could disguise, her beauty would shine through.

So how did she disappear so completely for the past 6 years?

Tyrion frowned. Either Baelish had done the impossible or Sansa Stark was long dead.

He was not sure if he wanted to find the truth.


	9. Chapter 9

It took three weeks to reach Pentos. It would have taken longer, but the winds were in their favor. 

It was a good thing too, because Arya and Sandor had almost nothing to talk about, and even more to argue about.  
“You’re not going to leave me again if I get injured saving you, are you?” Sandor grumbled as they sat in an awkward silence.

“You lived didn’t you?”

“Good thing I did, or you’re brother would be dead” He rasped. He had been traveling with the Elder Brother when they happened upon the dying wilding and her charge.

“He’s a Stark, he would have endured” She replied flippantly. “Your stupid limp probably slowed him down”

“You forget he was ill with fever too, and that I healed him”

“Your bloody Elder Brother healed him. You were a crook of a holy brother” Arya laughed. “Wish I could’ve seen you in the robes though”

“Ah, little wolf wants to see me in a robe huh?” He teased. Arya whipped her shoes at him, which easily dodged.

Her knife however came dangerously close to his neck.

“Your brother wouldn’t be to happy if I died”

“He’d live”

“You’d make the little pup cry”

“Don’t flatter yourself. The poor kid probably feels kinship towards you with the scar. She’ll get over it”

“You’re jealous she likes me better”

“She does not!” Arya shouted, “She likes me the best,”

And so the days continued to pass from one inane argument to another. The crew was surprised no one was more grievously injured then the small nick to Sandor’s neck from needle, and Arya’s bruised shoulder from the flat side of Sandor’s blade.

As they approached Lys, where they would stay for a few days, they argued over how to procede.

Arya wanted to disguise herself as a lad, but Sandor was convinced they would get more information with her dressed as a lady. As much as he hated to acknowledge it, he grudgingly admitted that Arya Stark was a pretty girl, in a wild, dangerous sort of way.

She finally caved and agreed to dress as a demure lady. It would give them an element of surprise. For all of his spies and resources, Baelish never was able to locate the missing Stark daughter. If they found him, Arya’s impressive sword skill would be best concealed until needed.

When the ship docked, it docked in Lys. Another smaller vessel would take them to Pentos in a few days time.

It was unclear who was happier, the crew that their bickering, not to mention dangerous, passengers were gone, or Arya and Sandor, who were simply glad to be off the constrictive vessel.

‘We need to blend in before we get to Pentos,” Arya told him as they made their way to an inn. 

“Why here?” He grumbled, knowing the sorts of clothing that awaited him.

“We cannot look western when we dock, Baelish could have spies there as well” She replied, “Come on, this way” She dragged him to a street vendor selling brightly colored clothing.

Sandor grumbled and groaned about the colors, but even he knew how quickly Baelish would catch wind of the arrival of two westerners if he were staying in Pentos. It brought a smile to his face to see the little wolf bitch was just as unhappy with the clothing as he was.

Arya ended up in a gauzy pink dress with an orange veil to cover her face. She hid her thin blade in the folds of her skirt, and a dagger tied to her ankle. She laughed outright as the Hound emerged in equally flamboyant clothing. He wore flowy gold breeches with a stark white tunic. She could hear his chain mail underneath. He covered his head with a white headscarf held together with a golden circlet.

“You look ridiculous,” She told him.

‘Aye, but so do you” He retorted. “Here, put that on” He passed her a thick bronze necklace. She looked at it in confusion but put it on anyways.

“I don’t like jewelry” She complained, picking at it.

“Aye, but it makes you look more girly” He smirked.

She didn’t know it was a collar for slaves. It meant she was his slave, and he didn’t tell her. He just smirked whenever it caught his eye in the sunlight.

 

The trip from Lys to Pentos took only two days.

They arrived midmorning, when the docks were bustling with business. They passed unseen through the custom officials, and disappeared into the busy streets.

No one spared them a second glance.

Their first task was to find an inn and inquire about any Westerosi citizens in the area. Arya took care of that with her Braavosi and Valayrian.

Pentos was a mix of different languages but Valayrian seemed to be the most predominant. As a lady from a high noble house, Arya had learned Valayrian as a child, and then when she spent time in Bravos. 

Sandor on the other hand, spoke only a few butchered words of their bastard form. It was enough to get by, but only barely.

The second was to get a good meal, they were both starving.

They ate quickly in the inn, wanting to get their search started. Something about Pentos made them feel like they were close to finding what they were looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first, I'm relatively new to AO3 and have finally figured out the end notes and such! (FF.net is a lot different!) Second, thank you all for reading and leaving comments and kudos, they are greatly appreciated. Lastly, from here on out some of the chapters are going to be flashbacks to fill in the missing pieces in the story line while others will be present day on the search for Sansa, just a warning encase their is some confusion over random chapters that took place way before my timeline.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	10. Chapter 10

Gendry and Rickon

They had been in the Riverlands for only a few days. Aegon, the Queen's nephew, had met them at the borderlands of the Riverlands district and the Vale. He had assured them that he himself, and his new wife of course, had sent out search parties to find Baelish, horrified at what they both had seen in Pup. So they continued their search in the Riverlands. Gendry knew of Baelish's childhood, most of which was spent in the Riverlands. Perhaps he had taken Sansa there, the girl could easily pass for a Tully bastard.

But they had found nothing. Every inn, every fortress, every crofter’s cottage all said the same thing.

Gendry found it to be very tedious and repetitive.

First they would ask if they had seen Petyr Baelish, and then gave a description of the man.

No one had seen Baelish in the area since he was a ward of Lord Hoster Tully.

They would then ask about a girl of ten and nine or so with reddish hair and a pale complexion.

No one had seen a woman of ten and nine with hair similar to the Tully line.

They would then turn to Gendry and Rickon.

Most commented on how handsome Gendry was, and asked which house he belonged to. No, Gendry was not Renly Baratheon brought to life. That one made Rickon laugh all the time because of how frustrated Gendry would get. Once they found out that Gendry was a simple blacksmith, they would turn to the young lad.

People would dote on Rickon, and it was Gendry’s turn to smile. The boy hated the doting older woman and the prideful fathers.

Once they found out who he was, everyone commented on how much Rickon resembled his Tully relations that he grew frustrated with his red hair and blue eyes.

He grew melancholy when they remarked on what a good woman his mother was, how dutiful she was to her family, how she embodied the Tully words, and when they told him how strong his brother had been, how they all thought he could have won the war, was it not for the traitorous Frey’s.

He smiled faintly when they complimented his brother, Jon, and what a strong king he made.

He blushed red when they asked if was going to marry soon and subtly pushed their young daughters forth.

Gendry felt bad for the young boy. 

Rickon felt sadness when the Riverland people spoke of his mother and brother, who had died in this very area. Most of them knew his mother as Catelyn Tully, they could easily recall her face and the kind things she had once done for them as the daughter of their liege lord. They spoke of her beauty, of her wide, genuine smile, and of her bell like laugh.

Rickon could not recall his mother’s face. He could not remember Robb’s either, or his father’s. Sansa’s was a mystery as well. He was only three when father left with the girls, and just four when mother and Robb left. He would never know what his parents looked like. Everyone said Bran and he looked like Robb, but what did Robb truly look like?

He hated that he could not bring to mind the faces of half his family. 

They passed the sight of the Twin’s a sennight into the journey through the Riverlands. Everyone stopped and starred at the wreckage that remained from the massacre of the Frey House.

The bridge and the two towers had been burnt to a crisp. Rickon had never seen the site. It brought chills to his body, but he knew he had to stay strong in front of his men, in front of Gendry. They approached the bridge, each and every guard with their eyes trained on the wreckage of the Twins. 

Rickon spotted the bronze plaque at the entrance to the brdige. He dismounted his horse, and approached on foot.

"To those who were lost, the North remembers" He read aloud. 

The North had remembered, and the Frey's had paid for their sins. There was naught Rickon could do, save for wallow and weep. Nothing could bring them back, nothing at all. He had seen the monstrosity that was his reincarnated mother, he knew some things were best left dead.He took a deep breath, and stepped onto the bridge, making his way to the other side.

One of the older guards, one that had survived the war of the five kings, held the others back as their little lord crossed the bridge with his head held high.

"Lord Eddard would be proud" He whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

(Two Years Prior after the War of the North )

After the northern war had ended, and the Dragon Queen sat on the Iron Throne with her new husband, King Jon wanted his revenge. The Bolton’s were long dead, as were the Lannister’s. The Frey’s, the slippery weasels that they were, had managed to survive the war with most of their family intact. Old Walder Frey was still alive.

Jon had planned his revenge to the last minute detail. 

The Frey’s were first given a royal pardon, signed by Queen Daenerys and King Jon themselves. They claimed they understood that the Lannister’s and Bolton’s had organized the whole thing, that the minor house of Frey was a victim. It was all lies coated in sugary words and simpering praises.

Walder Frey ate it up.

At the time, no one in Westeros save for the select few that knew him knew that Jon was the third Targaryen, that he was the King. After all, Daenerys and Aegon came out of nowhere, why not a third?

Walder Frey was too blinded by the Queen’s simpering letter to detect any deception. After all, the Stark’s and Targaryen’s were no friends. Most of the southern houses thought the war against the white walkers was a fable after all, no one expected the truce between the two houses.

So they wrote to the man announcing their travels through the Riverlands, and how they hoped to cross at the Twins.

Walder Frey would be honored.

A large group of their most trusted men had surrounded the castles under the cloak of darkness while the King and Queen and a small guard entered the castle.

Walder Frey had gathered his entire family in the same hall that had played a part in the Red Wedding year’s prior. It made Jon’s blood boil to see the old man sitting upon the throne while his own brother laid cold and dead in his grave.

The Frey’s knew something was amiss when the King and Queen refused the bread and salt.

“Your grace, it is a custom in Westeros” The old man simpered, smiling thinking that perhaps the new Queen was not versed in the ways of their world.

“I am aware, Lord Frey” Dany told him with a smile, “The guest right you call it, yes?”

“Yes, your Grace” He nodded slowly.

“My Queen, it is meant as a protection. Once the bread and salt have been eaten, Lord Frey cannot harm us, and we cannot harm him” He had told her, glancing to Walder Frey, “Is that not right, Lord Frey”

“It is correct, your Grace” Walder nodded.

“You do not know who I am, do you Frey?” Jon questioned, staring at the man. There was no true fear in his eyes, he did not know who Jon truly was.

“You are Jon Targaryen, King consort to Queen Daenerys” The man told him.

“Yes, that I am” He nodded. Frey gave him a weird look. “Do you recognize my crown, Lord Frey?” He questioned. He wore the crown that the Kingslayer had recovered from one of Frey’s sons.

“I do not, your Grace. I am an old man, my vision is poor”

“Let me show you up close”

Walder Frey went as pale as parchment.

“The last King to wear this crown in this very hall was murdered, Lord Frey, was he not?”

“I don’t know what you mean” He managed to croak out.

“King Robb, the King of the North, Lord Frey” Dany supplied. “You gave him the guest right, didn’t you?”

“No”

“Yes” Jon approached Walder Frey, glaring down at the pitiful old man, “My name is not Jon Targaryen, Lord Frey, my name is Jon Snow. I was raised as the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark. King Robb was my brother,”

Walder Frey did not speak. He was breathing shallowly.

“You murdered my siblings lady mother” He told him, circling his grand chair, “You murdered Smalljon Umber, a friend of mine” He circled again, “You murdered Ser Wendell Manderly, an honorable man” He drew his sword, “You murdered Dacey Mormont, her great uncle gave me this sword, did you know?”

“No”

“No you didn’t know? Or no, you didn’t kill them?”

“I didn’t kill them”

“No, not directly, not a frail old man like yourself, but still you are at fault” He told him. “And you murdered Ghost’s brother”

“Ghost?”

“My direwolf”

The guards in the back opened the door for Ghost to trot in. His muzzle was stained red from a recent kill. Walder Frey started to tremble.

“Like myself, Ghost is not too happy that you murdered his brother”

“I didn’t touch the wolf”

“Again, not directly. But we’ve established that does not matter, haven’t we?”

“We have” Dany replied, approaching Frey’s newest wife, “Tell me true, dearest, when did you and Lord Frey marry?”

“Two moons ago” The girl stuttered out.

“And did you want to marry Lord Frey?”

“No” The girl answered quickly, shaking her head. She could only around ten and five or ten and six. “I had no choice”

“What do you mean, no choice?” Dany asked.

“Lord Frey threatened my father. I was the eldest, the little ones needs the food,”

“You sacrificed yourself” Dany nodded, “Ser Daario, could you escort this young lady to the perimeter?” 

“Of course, your radiance” Daario led the trembling woman by the arm out of the hall.

“You are a despicable man, Walder Frey” Dany spat, “Threatening a man and his family to give up their daughter? Killing your guests after administering the guest right? You do not deserve to have reached such an elder age when you stole the lives of others at such a young age”

“Robb was only 16” Jon pressed the point of his sword to the mans thin neck. “16 Lord Frey”

Jon took a calming breath. He couldn’t loose it now, not when he still had to avenge Robb.

“Lord Walder Frey, and family, I, Jon Snow, son of Lord Eddard Stark, brother to Robb Stark, King of the North, Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, King consort to Queen Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm do condemn you to death. Have you any last words, Lord Frey?”

It seemed the man did not.

“My father, Lord Eddard Stark, taught me that if you are condemning a man to death you should be the one to carry out the sentence,” Jon told him. “Stand, Lord Frey”

The pale shaking old man struggled to his feet. His legs trembled, Jon was afraid he would fall.

“NO!” Someone screamed. Jon whirled around to see who had called out. From the back door emerged a scruffy, dirty looking boy. Everyone looked at him to see what he would do next. He did not look dangerous, he was clearly underfed and homeless if the clothes he wore were any indication.

“Which one of you is Raymund Frey?” The boy asked.

Someone pushed the man out from the hoards of Frey’s. This man was trembling like a leaf. 

“Who are you, lad?” Dany questioned. “What business do you have with him?”

“I’m not a boy,” The girl, apparently, answered. Faster then any of them imagined, she had her arm and sword around the shaking Frey, pressed so tightly that blood was starting to spurt. She pulled her hood down to reveal her full face and a braid of long black hair.

“My name is Arya of House Stark” She growled, “And you killed my mother” She drew her sword across his neck, blood spurted everywhere. Arya dropped his body to the ground. He wasn’t dead, but he was choking on his own blood. He would die slowly and painfully it seemed.

Arya whistled and Nymeria burst into the room, growling as she approached her mistress. She looked up to her brother then, who was still staring at her with wide eyes.

“Arya” He whispered, smiling despite the fact his sister had just killed a man in front of him. 

“Jon” Arya smiled, wiping blood from her cheek. “It is good to see you, brother”

“You as well, little sister” He grinned.

“Shall we finish this? For Robb?” Arya questioned. 

“Aye, for Robb” Jon nodded. 

The women and children were killed swiftly. All the men of the Frey family were not so lucky. They were tied to their seats in the hall, all save for Walder Frey and Lothor Frey. 

Viserion and Drogon then set the Towers on fire as Walder Frey and Lothor were forced to watch.

“Now, it is your turn to die, Walder Frey” Jon told him, drawing his sword, “And like I was saying before my sister interrupted me, my father once taught me that if you sentence a man to die, then you must be the one to do it. That is the honorable thing. But I find that you do not deserve such honor, such a quick death. No, you will suffer, as you made my brother suffer”

And with that, Ghost and Nymeria attacked the two remaining Frey’s


	12. Chapter 12

Pentos  
Arya and Sandor

“Get up, you useless bitch” Sandor grumbled, hauling Arya to her feet. 

“He was stealing!” Arya grumbled. She had attacked a cutpurse after the man had stolen a little girl’s pink pocket purse. The man was twice her size though, and had landed on top of her as he fell after she knocked him out.

“You’re going to expose us” He dragged her by the collar on her neck. She had realized now what it meant, but grudgingly wore it since the few people they had been acquainted with already thought her his slave.

“Bloody oaf, let go of me,” She hissed once they were out of sight of the bustling docks. She pulled away from him and rubbed her neck while glaring at him.

“We need to focus on finding Baelish”

“We’ve been here a whole week! I don’t think he’s here!” She grumbled.

“I think he is” He replied. 

At that very moment, the sound of two people speaking in the common tongue passed by their hiding place in the dark alley. Sandor pulled Arya to his side quickly.

“Whoever they are”

“They are no one my lord” The voice spoke with a thick Pentoshi accent.

“They are from Westeros, they are dangerous”

“My lord, it is a knight and his whore, no one of consequence”

“Maybe, or maybe not. I want their names”

“The innkeeper says his name is Hill, and his whore he simply calls little bitch” Sandor clamped a hand over Arya’s mouth before she could curse at him.

“I need to see them”

“Yes, my lord” Sandor let Arya go slowly so that she could catch a glimpse of the two men. One was clearly just a boy, but the other was older, and his voice had a familiar tone to it, slightly disguised by his ill Pentoshi accent. They were standing just outside the entrance to the alley, talking about Sandor and Arya apparently.

Arya fled deeper into the alley. He heard the faint scuffle of her feet as she scaled the wall. He pressed himself deeper into the darkness, watching as she pulled herself up onto the roof.

Arya pulled the gauzy strip of orange fabric closer to her face, hiding her dark hair and obscuring her features as she raced across the roof, and then onto another. She went three buildings before jumping down back onto the ground. No one saw her.

She did a circle around the buildings and approached the spot where she and Sandor had been hiding.

She could see two figures leaning close to each other as they carried on the same conversation they had already heard.

One was clearly a Pentoshi lad. He was probably around ten and two. He was speaking with a man clad in typical Westeros wear, not the usual bright colors of Pentos. This man has his back to her. She approached a merchant selling fruit just beyond the two men.

“This, please’ She told the man in Valyrian, picking up a juicy peach, a fruit Pentos was famous for. She passed him a golden coin. The man smiled and nodded, hastily grabbing her change.

She thanked him, turning to leave. She looked to the two men who were still there.

The man dressed in the dark Westerosi colors was thin. He had narrowed eyes and a pointed beard. He was handsome, she supposed, but there was something about him that made you squirm. 

He looked up at her with his narrow grey eyes, and she quickly smiled, coyly bringing the fruit to her lips and taking a small bite.

She watched him as she ate the fruit, smirking and running her tongue across her juicy lips.

The man smiled back, and turned to his companion to continue their conversation.

She made sure to keep her gait slow as she walked back to the way she had come. Once she had turned the corner, she raced back to their inn.


	13. Chapter 13

It took them another day to figure out where Baelish was staying, and another four to watch his daily routines. In the mean time, they left the inn they had been staying at, making their way to the manse of Illyrio Mopatis. The Queen had written to the man before they left Westeros, and he had offered his home to them.

Sandor and Arya had chosen the inn to stay within the busiest parts of the city, but now that they had found Baelish, they needed somewhere more secure.

The obscenely fat man welcomed them into his home without problem. He was delighted to have friends of his dear Daenerys and Tyrion’s under his roof.

He held a feast in their honor, the only guests being themselves and he. He went on and on about how he had housed the Queen when she was a young girl, how he had brokered the marriage between the Queen and her first husband, and so on and so on. The man was proud of his collections. 

At last the man left them to their own devices.

They met in the room Arya was staying in to plan their attack. 

They had meticulously watched Baelish for four full days. They had not seen Sansa, or any other female, but he did keep a small group of guards outside his rented manse.

They both agreed that they would ambush the house later in the evening, take them by surprise.

“I get Baelish,” She told him.

“Needs to be alive for the Queen,” He reminded her.

“I know” She smirked, “I won’t kill him”

“Aye, sure you won’t,” He grumbled, smirking. “Come on, let’s get going”

They waited until the hour of the wolf to strike. There were two guards on the outer walls, and three just inside the wall. 

The first two never knew what hit that as both their throats were sliced together, the bodies falling silently into the shadows.

The next guards went down just as easily, the pile of bodies going up to five just outside the perimeter wall.

They were inside the courtyard now. 

“Front windows” Sandor whispered, gesturing to it. Arya nodded once, and took off to the left while he took the one to the right.

They both used their knives to lift the latches from the inside, sneaking into the rooms without a sound.

Arya was quick as a shadow, light as a feather, and darker then night itself. She found herself in a sitting room of sorts, the pale moonlight illuminating the room. She crept out of the room and into a hallway, where she could just make out Sandor exiting his room.

“Clear” She whispered.

He nodded back. The bottom floor of the manse was open and airy, and not a guard in sight. They checked twice before approaching the stairs. It was as silent as death in the house. They crept carefully up the stairs, not making a peep.

There were several rooms to choose from, two of which had closed doors. They checked the open rooms first for guards, then the closed ones.

The first was an empty bathing chamber that had a large deck that had a view of the city.

The last one had to be his room. She opened the door silently, and crept in, Sandor behind her.

Baelish was sleeping peacefully in his bed.

“His mouth” She jerked her shoulder. They approached the bed carefully, the Hound reaching forward to clamp a strong hand over his jaw as she pressed the tip of her dagger to his neck.

He awoke, jerking in fear, his grey eyes wide and searching for the culprits.

“You knew you would be caught eventually, didn’t you?” She questioned, lazily moving her dagger across his neck without drawing blood.

“Mhmmh mhmh mh” He grumbled against the Hound’s large hand.

“Do you remember the little girl you left dying in your prison? The five year old innocent little thing that you slashed chin to cheek?”

He shook his head.

“Don’t lie, Littlefucker” Sandor growled. The man’s eyes grew wider.

“Oh, he knows who you are, don’t you Baelish?” Sandor loosened his grip on the man’s mouth.

“Hound” He gasped through Sandor’s lighter grip.

“Do you know who I am?” She questioned.

“The girl from the docks” He muttered. She smirked.

“Aye, good enough” Sandor gripped him tighter. “Tie him up,”

“With pleasure” She took her time tying the man to his bedpost, took pleasure in his grunts of pain and terrified eyes. “Tell me what you know of Sansa Stark, and you might just live” She growled.

“Ah, I know who you are now,” Baelish smirked. “You resemble your father, whereas lovely little Sansa resembled your mother. Arya Stark, I always wondered how you disappeared”

“Tell me what you know of my sister,” She demanded, struggling to refrain from stabbing him. They needed him alive.

“I know nothing”

“No, you know something” She slashed her dagger across his face, smiling as the blood dripping down and he howled in pain.

“That was for the little girl you left maimed in the black cells of the Eyrie,” She told him.

“Ah, you found her, did you?” He laughed. “Tell me, did you get to see her, Clegane?”

“What?” 

“Did you get to see the little girl before her corpse rotted?” He repeated.

He wanted them to play his game, they both realized. His game of lies and deceptions.

“Aye, I did,” He grumbled.

“And you, Lady Arya?”

“Yes” Arya pressed the knife closer to his neck; “She lived a full moon until she succumbed to the fever, you bastard” Arya lied. “What does it matter?”

“Oh, it matters” He smirks, chortling slightly. “But that knife at my neck is pressing quite tight. I might bleed out before I can tell you what happened to your poor elder sister”

"So you do know what happened to her" Arya hissed.

"Of course I do" He smirked.

“But what does the little girl have to do with her?” Sandor growled, pulling Arya’s dagger and hand slightly away from the mans neck.

“Everything” Baelish smirked again. “I admit it, I snuck your sister out of the capital. She was such an innocent little thing, the capital was destroying her” He shook his head, “But alas, she was stolen from me as easily as I had stolen her from the Lannister’s”

“What do you mean?” Arya hissed, “Who took her?”

“Why, your companion’s brother of course. The Mountain intercepted us on his way from Harrenhal”


	14. Chapter 14

Sandor’s head spun. He loosened his grip, shock overriding his body.

His brother. Gregor. The beast that had held his face to a fire when he was just seven years old. The brother that had murdered their innocent little sister. The brother that had slain their father over a small, trivial matter. The brother that had been slain by Oberyn Martell, and then again by Sandor when he reemerged as Ser Robert Strong.

The brother that had now raped Sansa Stark.

The gods were crueler then he ever imagined.

“No” Arya hissed, pressing the knife back against his neck.

“The Mountain took your sister, and defiled her. He sent me the child you found in the black cells as repayment. The little girl was too much like her father, I had to keep her locked up”

“No” Arya hissed, “You’re lying”

“Am I?” He questioned, “The little girl had Tully auburn hair, did she not? And her eyes were grey, the exact shade as the Clegane standing behind you. He knows the truth, look at him. He knows his brother. He knows that any child born from that monster would be evil. I had to subdue her,” He sighed, “And as for your sister, well, I do not know what became of her but I imagine that Sandor knows the fate of his brother’s previous wives”

“Sandor?” Arya turned to him. “What happened to his previous wives?”

“He killed them,” He rasped, glaring at Baelish who was taking some sort of perverse pleasure. Each and every one of Gregor’s wives had died after giving birth to daughters. 

“She is not dead!” Arya screamed, dropping her knife and punching Baelish in the face with her bare hand. “She’s not dead!” 

Baelish passed out after the third punch.

“She isn’t dead” Arya whispered, turning to Sandor, “She is not dead”

“If she married Gregor, she’s dead, Arya” He told her solemnly. He had no other words for her, no barbed insults or jokes. He did not even have the power to call her a little wolf bitch.

It was killing him inside. The very thought of his little bird being subjected to the horrors of Gregor was like a knife to the gut. It was ripping him apart.

“You fancied her,” Arya whispered, staring at him, her head tilted as if she was trying to understand it all. "In the capital, you started to fancy her"

“I just wanted to protect her,” He amended. "She was so innocent, so sweet. I had never seen someone quite like her"

“Pup reminds you of her, that’s why you put up with it” 

“Our niece now” He grumbled, “If Baelish is to be believed”

“I learned a lot about lying when I was in the House of Black and White” Arya told him, “The best lies are always the ones that contain some element of the truth”

“Aye, and which part of that awful story do you want to be true?” He rasped. He was usually a good detector of lies, but Baelish’s words had unhinged him. 

“I think that Pup is who Baelish claims her to be,” She whispered. “But I do not think your brother kept Sansa. He would have been on his way to King’s Landing, on his way to his first death by the Red Viper,”

Gregor would have had no time to stash Sansa. He would have been on his way to fight for the Queen. After that, he never left the Capital, and Sansa certainly would have been recognized there.

“Search the first floor, look for trap doors” He hissed as the two of them rushed out of the room, leaving Baelish out cold on the stone ground.

 

They lit several candles, looking for a hatch or basement stairs. They moved furniture and rugs; they pulled all the books from the shelves, searched every nook and cranny of the manse, and still nothing.

“We have to be missing something,” Arya cried out. “There has to be a door, or a lock, or something!”

“Here” Sandor grumbled, pointing to the three bronze plates hanging on the wall. The one in the middle had an odd indent on it, like a funny shaped keyhole. “Go check Baelish for something that looks like this”

Arya raced up the stairs.

He heard the faint sound of someone moaning before she raced back down the stairs, a chain grasped triumphantly in her hands.

Sandor shoved it into the keyhole quickly as Arya couldn’t reach. There was a creaking noise as a panel in the wall pulled back to reveal a latter that disappeared into darkness.

“Oh, gods” Arya whispered as they both stared blankly at the sight. She reacted first, reaching out to drop her candle.

They watched as the darkness swallowed it.

“You first” Arya told him. He shrugged and started his descent. He carried no candle; he did not fear the darkness. Arya a few feet above him carried a candle. 

He counted 42 rungs before he reached the bottom. Arya was still far above him, having to make her way down with only one hand while the other held the candle.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.

There was a heavy oak door with a thick wooden bar across it, locking whatever was on the other side in.

He pulled it right out of its hinge, placing it on the ground, carful not to be too loud as to not spook anyone.

Arya reached the bottom, lighting a torch she found on the wall. The small antechamber lit up.

“Open it” Arya whispered.


	15. Chapter 15

He pried open the door.

 

There was a thin young woman curled up in the corner. She wore a dress similar to Arya’s own, bright colors and gauzy material. Her auburn hair was like a puddle of blood around her pale face, her pink lips parted slightly as breathed easily in sleep. There was an extremely thick collar around her neck.

She was tied to the wall like an animal.

“Sansa” Arya whispered, approaching her elder sister. She didn’t stir. She knelt closer to her, and gently shook her shoulder, “Sansa”

Her eyes fluttered open in confusion, her brow wrinkling. Her eyes widened in fear as she tried to back away from him, whimpering.

The chains clanked loudly.

“No, no” Sansa whispered hoarsely.

“Ssh Sansa, I won’t hurt you, it’s all right,” Arya tried to soothe her. She knew that she and Sansa had left off on a bad note, but surely she wasn’t afraid of her?

She sobbed, begging her to leave. But she was not speaking the common tongue, but bastard Valayrian. 

“Ssh, you’re safe now,” Arya told her, ”It’s me, Arya, your sister”

“No, no” She screamed loudly. Arya had to cover her ears.

Her sister did not seem to recognize her. From what Tyrion had told them, Sansa was fond of the Hound. Maybe he should be the one to try.

“You try,” She told him over the sounds of Sansa’s screams. She backed out of the little room, unable to listen to her sister's agonizing screams. It was worse then hearing the victims of torture, worse then anything she had ever heard before.

Sandor carefully unleased her from the chain on the wall, but they would need another key for the collar about her neck. He knelt carefully next to her. 

“Little bird, calm down” She looked up, her blue eyes wide.

“Sandor” She whispered hoarsely as if she hadn’t spoken in ages. He was surprised that she recognized him, but not her own sister.

“Aye, little bird, it’s me” He moved a bit closer to her.

“No, you’re dead” She whispered in a some sort of Valayrian, but he could understand the basics. He knew the word for dead after all. She was reaching her hand out towards him. He grasped it lightly within his own. He pressed it against his chest carefully.

Her blue eyes grew wider and tears welled up behind them.

“No, I’m dreaming, you are not here” She whispered, still speaking Valayrian. He was lucky to understand the simple sentences. “The gods are cruel”

“I’m right here, little bird,” He told her, bringing her hand up to his face. “I’m not dead, and neither are you”

 

“I prayed that you would save me,” Sansa told him, looking at his face. 

“Little bird still wants her fairytale song?” He asked gruffly. To his surprise, she smiled and laughed. Tears leaked from her eyes.

‘It is you!” She cried, wrapping her arms around him. “Oh thank the gods,” She sobbed against his chest. She was dead weight against him, but he did not mind.

Sansa Stark was alive. That was all that mattered.


	16. Chapter 16

Being wargs was not something the Stark children spoke aloud about. With Jojen’s death north of the wall, Meera did not like to hear about it either, and Jon felt uncomfortable even though being a warg was what had saved him after the Nightswatch betrayed him.

That being said, Bran was the only one that did not like their attitude towards it. He was the best at it, he had learned the ways of the children of the tree, of the three-eyed crow. Not only could he warg into Summer, but into the minds of others as well, for however brief a moment.

So a full moons turn into the departure of the three groups, he decided to check in on his elder sister and younger brother. 

If they ever knew he warged into them, they never said anything. 

He closed his eyes and focused on the memory of his brother’s face. That was the thing about entering someone’s mind; you had to recall what they looked like. He was only a young boy when Sansa left Winterfell, he could barely recall her face, only the features he knew she shared with Rickon.

He had tried for several moons to recall her so that he could warg into her. It had never worked.

He focused back on Rickon’s face two week ago as he laughed in the yard while the Hound was training him.

When he opened his eyes he was staring at Gendry, Arya’s blacksmith non fiancé. Gendry was chewing with his mouth open, talking with a soldier next to him.

“If we don’t find anything in the next week, we’re heading back,” Gendry was saying.

‘Unlikely anyone came north when the south is so much warmer” The solider agreed. Gendry laughed.

“I hear you” He agreed.

He snapped out of Rickon’s body, blinking in his surrounding in his own bedchamber. Meera was asleep next to him, curled up to his side. He focused now on Arya’s face, willing himself to enter her mind.

Arya was always the hardest to enter. She had mental shields like none he had ever encountered. It was probably due to her time as a faceless man.

He struggled through them though and found himself watching a woman with long auburn hair sleep. She slumbered peacefully. 

Arya was just watching her, standing next to Sandor Clegane, watching this woman sleep. 

He snapped out of Arya’s mind.

“Meera, Meera!” He shook her awake.

“What?”

“Get Jon, quick,” He begged of her. Meera jumped out of bed, racing out of the chamber.

Meera begging him to come quick awakened Jon. Bran had dreamed of something apparently. 

Meera left him at the entrance to their bedchambers, where his brother was sitting up straight in bed, a smile on his face.

“She is found,” He told him.

“Sansa?” He questioned.

“In Pentos,” Bran replied. “They are still there”

“I will get Viserion and ride at once,” He told his younger brother. “And Bran?”

“Yes?”

“Good job”

Bran smiled as his elder brother left the room in a hurry. Sansa would be with them shortly.


	17. Chapter 17

Sansa had fallen asleep as they carried her out of the hidden cellar. She was weak, that much was apparent. The whole ordeal had drained her.

Sandor carried her while Arya dragged Baelish behind them as they made their way back to Illyrio’s manse.

When they got there, Baelish was taken to the cellar, where he was chained and bound.

Sansa was brought to the room between Sandor and Arya’s, and laid upon the bed. Neither one knew what to do next.

“We shouldn’t leave her alone,” Arya whispered as they watched Sansa sleep.

“Aye” He nodded.

“I do not want her to wake up and be afraid,” Arya told him, “So you should stay” 

“She’s your sister,” He rasped.

“But she’s more comfortable with you” Arya reasoned, “And as much as I hate you, you won’t hurt her, I know it”

Her words cut deep into his black soul.

“Aye” He rasped, “I won’t hurt her”

Arya nodded then and left, promising to take care of Baelish some more.

He sat heavily upon the floor in the corner, his eyes glued to the steady rise and fall of the little bird’s thin chest.

He awoke in the morning, not sure what had roused him He looked to the bed, encase Sansa had called out, and was surprised to find it empty.

He went to stand but noticed at the last second that Sansa Stark was asleep with her head against his thigh. It was his bad thigh, the one with nearly no feeling left in it.

She must have moved a while ago, she was fast asleep. He took the time to take in the changes to her face and body.

She was taller then most ladies, just shy of six feet he would wager. She was thin, too thin. He could see the bones in her shoulders and wrists. Her auburn hair was lighter, and her skin whiter then the winter snow. Her face was gaunt, but still beautiful. She had high, noble cheekbones and plump pink lips.

His anger rose as he took in the spider web like scars on her back. They were healed, they had happened long ago. She had a bruise on her shoulder, a week or so old he would guess, and a small gash on her forearm. Her face was mercifully free from scars or bruising.

Her eyes started to flutter as she woke up. In the sunlight, her Tully blue eyes were like the glistening sea. They were wide in confusion, but there was no fear.

“I thought it a dream,” She whispered in Valyrian. He was lucky to have picked up on the language in their sennight here.

“No dream, little bird” He told her in common. “Are you hungry? Do you want to see your sister?” He questioned.

“I have no sister” She replied.

“Arya, little bird, she’s your sister”

“No, I have no sister” She insisted. “Only my father”

He furrowed his brow in confusion. Her father was long dead.

“Your father is dead, little bird,” He told her with a sigh, “He died ages ago in the capital, remember?”

Her eyes turned to confusion as she quirked her brow.

“No, my father is not dead” She told him simply. “He was in the manse, you must have seen him”

Baelish. She meant Petyr Baelish. He had brainwashed her into thinking that he was her father.

“ Sansa-”

“No” She whispered, backing away form him, “No”

“Sansa, please”

“That’s not my name!” She screamed, “Stop it!”

“Your name is Sansa Stark,” he told her, standing from the ground. He stayed a good distance away. Arya burst into the room then, having heard the screams from her room.

“What’s wrong?” She questioned, “Sansa, what happened?” 

“That’s not my name!” She screamed, “Please, stop it!” 

“Then what is your name?” Arya questioned, approaching her.

“Alayne” She told then, “Alayne Stone


	18. Chapter 18

Sansa refused to be called anything but Alayne, unless it was Sandor calling her little bird. She refused to listen to Arya, only speaking with Sandor. It was strange that she chooses certain aspects of Sansa Stark’s life to weave with her new persona of Alayne Stone.

They don’t speak of Pup or the tale Baelish had told them. They don’t want to upset her further.

For the first two days, after her breakdown at being called Sansa, she doesn’t speak at all. She refuses to bathe or eat unless Sandor forces her to have simple broth. Most of the time they sit in silence in her room, watching her stare into space. She doesn’t talk to him, doesn’t chirp her nonsense, she just sits next to him in silence, staring at whatever lies beyond them.

On the third day, he decides to talk regardless of whether she listens of not.

He tells her about his life, how he and Arya came to travel together, how they narrowly avoided the Red Wedding, how she left him to die. He tells her about his brief stay on the Quiet Isle before he recovered and left. He tells her about traveling North and then how he found Rickon. 

Her façade crumbles a few times during his tales. When he tells her that Bran and Rickon are both alive, there is a small spark of joy behind her blue eyes, but it disappears quickly. When she hears about how close he and Arya got to the Red Wedding, a single tear cascades down her cheek, though she is quick to wipe it away.

They take her to see Baelish on the third day. He is tied up in the basement, dirty and disshelved. His left eye is swollen shut.

“Daughter” He smiles, showing off his now broken teeth. “My dearest, Alayne”

“Father” She whispers, staring at the man.

“He is not your father, little bird,” Sandor tells her, heaving Baelish off the ground. 

“Eddard Stark was your father, I am your sister” Arya told her. “You are Sansa Stark”

“No, I am not” She whispered, staring at Baelish, “Bad things happen to Sansa Stark”

“This isn’t helping” Arya kicked Baelish. Sansa didn’t flinch though. She was still staring.

They brought her back upstairs and to her room. She sat on the bed, staring into nothing.

Arya knelt in front of her.

“Please, Sansa, please” She begged.

“My name is Alayne. I am sorry you lost your sister, but I am not her” 

Arya could not handle it. She left the room, leaving Sandor and Sansa together again. He sat next to her on the bed.

“Do you remember the last time you saw me, little bird?”

“Yes” She nodded, “You stole into my bedchambers and made me sing for you”

“Aye, and why did I do that?”

“You were fleeing during the battle,” She whispered.

“The bay was burning,” He told her, “What color were the flames?”

“Green” She whispered.

“Does the Eyrie have any bays, little bird?”

“No” She whispered.

“You were in the capital”

“I’ve never been to the capital”

“No, but Sansa Stark has. Sansa Stark is the one I gave the nickname little bird too. I’ve never met an Alayne Stone, and yet you know me”

“Please, stop” She had her eyes closed.

“I can’t,” He told her, “You have to stop this nonsense. You are not some bastard girl from the Vale; you are a lady of Winterfell, a princess of the north. You have the blood of the wolves running in your veins,”

“No, my mother was a wench, and my father is Lord Baelish”

“No, your father was the honorable Eddard Stark. The king forced you to watch as Ser Ilyn Payne beheaded him,”

“No” She shook her head. Tears were leaking from her closed eyes. “Stop”

“I held you back and shielded your eyes at the last second”

“No”

“I won’t hurt you, little bird” He told her, “But you have to stop hiding. You are safe now, I wouldn’t let anything hurt you, Sansa”

“I don’t want to be Sansa Stark,” She cried, shocking him with her use of the common tongue. It was the first words she had said in her native language. She was looking up at him with her bright blue eyes. Her cheeks were a patchy red color. 

“You can’t change who you are, little bird,” He told her, wrapping an arm around her trembling shoulders. “You are Sansa Stark, daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, sister to Arya Stark. You are wolf, Sansa, not some silly mockingbird. You survived this long because you are stronger”

“I was not strong” She whispered, “I was stupid and naïve. I thought Baelish would take me home”

“And where is your home, little bird?”

“Winterfell” She whispered. “My home is in Winterfell, because I am a Stark”

He smiled then.

“Aye, Sansa, you are a Stark”


	19. Chapter 19

Jon and the Queen show up on the fourth day together, both on their massive dragons. Pentos is abuzz with the return of the Queen.

Sansa is still abed. Even though she had admitted to being Sansa Stark, Arya still made her uncomfortable. She had a tough time recognizing the beautiful northern beauty as her gangly little sister. 

Arya is outside when she spots the dragons in the air. They touch down just outside of the manse.

Sandor is watching Sansa sleep, sharpening his blade at the same time.

“The Queen and Jon have arrived” Arya told him breathlessly. “Wake Sansa, I’ll drag Baelish to them”

‘Aye” He grumbles as she disappears. He gently wakes Sansa from her slumbers.

She smiles slightly.

“I was running with the wolves” She tells him. He knows the truth of the Starks and their warging abilities. He doesn’t doubt that she was.

“That’s good, little bird” He tells her, “Do you remember your brother, Jon Snow?”

“The King” He has told her about the King and Queen.

“Aye, the King. Do you remember his face?”

She nods

“He’s here now, to take us back to the north”

Her eyes widen.

“Aye, you have to get dressed, we have to go meet him and the Queen”

She gets out of the bed in her thin shift. She disappears behind the dressing curtain. Moments later she emerges in a blue dress Arya had purchased for her. It made her eyes even bluer.

The dresses of Pentos do little to hide the scars on her back, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it. They were older marks, she had accepted them.

“Ready?” He questioned. She nodded, reaching out for his arm. He tucked her thin hand under his and escorted her downstairs and out into the streets of Pentos. The dragons had landed just a few hundred feet form the manse, but a crowd had formed when the dragons were spotted.

Sansa seems nervous, not that she says anything. She’s trembling though.

“It’s okay, little bird. You’re going home now”

She looks up at him with her endless pools of blue liquid and he cannot fathom the look behind them.

“Home” She whispers, “I haven’t had a home in seven years”

He continues to lead her through the crowds. She curls her body closer to his as the crowd thickens. She didn’t like the crowd.

He had to push his way through the thickest of them, and then they were in front of the Queen and King.

Jon looked up as he noticed Sandor approaching. There was tall, slender woman hidden behind him as he fought his way through the crowd. The woman had long auburn hair obscuring her face.

Finally the Hound pushed through, gently pushing the woman in front of him.

“Sansa?” Jon questioned aloud. The woman looked up. Her cheeks were gaunt, her skin white as cream, and her blue eyes were wide, but blank. She met his eyes briefly before looking down.

“Your Grace” The woman crumbled to the ground, bowing. She spoke in a language he did not know. Sansa had reverted back to Valyrian.

“Sansa?” He questioned, kneeling in confusion. “Sansa, stand up”

“I am not worthy, your Grace” Her voice was rougher then he remembered. She used to have a soprano voice, like tinkering bells. This voice was raspy, as if she hadn’t spoken in awhile, and her nonuse of the common tongue was confusing.

He looks to Dany who is watching her in confusion.

“She says she is not worthy” Dany whispers.

“Not worthy?” He doesn’t understand her words. He turns back to Sansa’s bowing form, “Stand, I command it,” He told her in common. She seemed to understand it, but didn’t speak it.

She stood on shaking legs but refused to meet his gaze.

“Look at me” He commanded.

Her blue eyes met his grey ones. She had tears coursing down her cheeks. She looked like Lady Catelyn had, but different. There was no malice or disgust in her blue eyes, only sorrow.

“It is you,” He whispered, reaching out for her hand. She froze, her posture going rigid. “Dany, this is Lady Sansa Stark, my sister”

At that, Sansa fell to the ground once more, sobbing. 

Sandor approached her, kneeling down in front of her.

“Perhaps we should move this to a more private area” The Queen suggested quietly.

“Of course” Jon nodded. “Sansa, will you stand, please?”

She made no move to get up.

“Clegane” Jon nodded.

Sandor lifted her easily from the ground, carrying her gently away from the crowds.

The people of Pentos watched in amazement as they made their way back to the manse.

In the solar, Jon approached Sansa, who was weeping on the settee.

“Sansa, please, stop these tears” He begged of her, “Tell me what ails you”

She sputters in her foreign tongue. He turns to Dany again to translate.

Her purple eyes are sad.

“She says it is you that ails her. She asks, why are you being so kind? I do not deserve your kindness, your Grace. I treated you awfully as a child” Dany translates.

To the surprise of the entire room, Jon laughs.

“You were but a child, Sansa” He told her, “You did what your Lady mother told you to do, I cannot find you at fault for that. You are part of my pack, Sansa, and the pack that stays together”

“Survives the winter,” She whispered in the common tongue.

“Yes” He told her, nodding.

She hugged him then, wrapping her thin arms around his shoulders. Jon looked the same as he had the last time she saw him, only a bit taller and muscled. He wasn’t so vastly changed as Arya.

“I am so sorry, brother,” She whispered.

“All is forgiven, sister” Jon told her, hugging her back. She was much too thin. He pulled away after a few minutes. “No more tears. Okay?”

She nodded.

“Good. Now, Sansa, this is my wife, Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,” Sansa looked up at the blonde woman and smiled shyly.

“Your Grace” She curtsied, 

“Lady Stark” Dany replied, nodding her head. Looking at the woman reminded her of Pup, and it was clear the two had to be related. Other then pup’s grey eyes she looked exactly like Sansa Stark. 

She wondered if anyone had asked Baelish or Sansa of it. She did not want to return to Westeros and to Pup without knowing the truth.

“Arya, bring Baelish forth” Dany commanded. She watched as Sansa recoiled, leaning closer to the sworn shield, Clegane. He put a heavy hand on her shoulder, and her face relaxed.

Petyr Baelish had clearly been subjected to both Arya and Clegane’s special skill set. The man’s face was swollen and bruised and he was missing a few teeth.

He smirked at her though when brought before her. Arya kicked him to his knees.

“Your Grace,” He nodded his head.

“Petyr Baelish” She hissed. “We finally meet. Stand,” She commanded.

He stood on weak legs.

“I will be quick and frank, Petyr Baelish. You stand accused of many heinous and violent crimes. You have no chance of convincing me of your innocence. Answer my questions truthfully, and I shall grant you a quick death, not that you deserve it”

Baelish visibly paled, but nodded.

“Did you kidnap Lady Sansa Stark from King’s Landing?”

“Yes” 

“Did you push Lady Lysa Arryn to her death?”

“Yes”

“Did you poison Lord Robert Arryn?”

“Yes”

“Did you betray Lord Eddard Stark, which resulted in his execution?”

“Yes”

“Did you slash the face of an innocent little girl and then leave her to die in agony in the bowels of the Eyrie?” She hissed.

“Oh, no, no that was not me” He laughed, his eyes looking past her to where Sansa was standing. She looked to them with wide, petrified eyes. It looked as if Clegane was holding her up at this point.

“Lady Sansa?” She questioned.

“I did it,” She whispered. “I slashed her cheek”


	20. Chapter 20

Everyone froze when Sansa admitted to cutting the little girl that had captured all of his or her hearts. No one knew what to do.

“Oh, ho, ho, how the plot thickens” Baelish smirked.

“You bastard!” Sansa broke free of Sandor’s grasp, and barreled into Baelish, hitting him with her tiny fists. “It’s your fault! You bloody bastard!” She was screaming.

“Sansa!” Jon tried to grab her, but she ended up punching him in the nose. Blood spurted as he backed away. The Queen went to help him.

“Sansa, stop” Sandor easily picked her up and away from Baelish, who was moaning in pain on the ground. “Stop it, calm down”

“I didn’t mean too! I didn’t want to hurt her!” She cried, thrashing against Clegane. “I swear it! I never meant to hurt her, oh gods take my soul,” She moaned. She went limp in his arms, weeping.

“Calm down, little bird” Sandor told her, placing her gently on the sofa. 

“What do you mean you slashed her?” The Queen questioned, anger and confusion clear in her tone of voice. “Why would you slash an innocent little girl?”

“He was going to leave her chained down there to die of hunger or thirst. I tried to give her the mercy of a quick death,” She whispered, her eyes widening as if she was reliving the event in her mind as she told them about it, “but he caught me, pulled me away. My hand slipped, I slashed her cheek instead of her throat,”

 

“You killed you own flesh and blood, Lady Stark” Petyr laughed. Arya slapped him.

“Shut up” Arya hissed.

Sansa threw a hand over her mouth and seemed to be struggling not to gag.

“I caused my daughter a long and agonizing death,” She whispered, staring straight at the queen. “I killed her. I deserve to be put to death as well,”

“She isn’t dead, little bird” Sandor whispered, unable to bear her pain any longer, “The Queen found her, she’s alive and well”

“NO” Baelish gasped, “They lie”

Sansa pulled back to stare at him.

“Truly?” She questioned, her voice breathy.

“Truly” He nodded. Sansa crumpled again and started weeping anew. 

“We lied to you, Littlefucker, just as you lied to us” Arya taunted.

“Ah, but I did not lie,” He told them, “Did I, Clegane?” He smirked.

Sandor’s blood boiled. He was taunting him. Gregor was the father. Gregor had raped and tortured her.

“You told them,” Sansa whispered, looking in terror to both Sandor and Arya. 

“You bastard!” Arya flew at Baelish with her little dagger, “You let him rape her!”

“Arya! No!” Sansa pulled her away from a manically laughing Baelish. “I do not wish to speak anymore on that matter”

“Sansa”

“No” Her tone left no room for arguments.

“Ah, Lady Stark doesn’t want her kingly brother and good sister to know her shame” Baelish cackled. “The truth always comes out, dear daughter”

“Sansa, Clegane, what does he mean?” Jon questioned. Everything had gotten so cryptic and out of control.

“The little girls father is-” Sandor knocked him out cold, his body collapsing on the tile.

“Clegane!” Jon roared.

“He was stepping towards Lady Sansa” He rasped.

“He was” Sansa quickly told them, “I thought he might strike me”

Baelish had not moved in inch, Jon was sure. It clear that Sandor, Arya and Sansa knew who Pup’s father was, but it was clear that Sansa wasn’t going to talk about it yet, and Arya and Sandor seemed content to keep that secret. 

“What do we do about him?” Arya questioned, looking at the disgusting piece of filth on the tiled floor.

“He has been sentenced to die” Dany replied, “The dragon’s cannot carry all of us, so I suppose he must be disposed of before we leave. Jon, will you do the honor?” She asked.

“No” Sansa broke out of her blank stare then; “I want to do it,” She told them.

“Sansa, are you sure?” Jon questioned. She looked sheepishly to her brother as his nose bled freely.

“Yes” She nodded, “I need to” She turned to Sandor, “May I borrow your sword?” She questioned.

“Aye”

They led Baelish to the raised wooden platform in the city, the one that was used for executions. A crowd gathered as they ascended the stairs. Sandor slammed Baelish’s face against the wooden block, passing his heavy sword to Sansa. Jon, Arya, and Dany stayed a few steps away.

The man was doused in cold water to rouse him.

“There is no endgame for you now, is there father?” Sandor heard Sansa hiss, “You lose. But really, what did you expect? You may have played the game with the royals and nobles, but you never were one. You could have amassed all the gold in the kingdom, all the power, but still, you were a simple commoner. Whose blood runs through your veins? Who was your father, and his father before that? A Braavosi sell sword, wasn’t it? Do you have any last words, Littlefinger?”

“You make me so proud, daughter” Baelish hissed, smirking. Sansa’s face-hardened.

“In the name of Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Sansa of the House Stark, Lady of Winterfell and Princess of the North, I do sentence you to die” She spoke clearly. She heaved the great sword over her shoulders and brought it down with surprising force.

Baelish made an awful gurgling noise as the sword hacked into his neck, but it did not outright kill him.

“My father was Lord Eddard Stark,” She whispered. “The only man my mother, Catelyn Tully, ever loved. She despised you, hated you with every fiber of her being. You made her skin crawl”

“Lies” And Petyr Baelish struggled to breathe his last breath.

Though no one would ever bring it up again, they could all see the look of pleasure upon Sansa’s face as the man gurgled and struggled. Only Sandor ever heard what she said to him, and that wasn’t something he was going to repeat.

When it was done and the Queen had addressed Pentos and thanked them, it was finally time to take Sansa home.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know this probably isn't the best place to post this but I'm going crazy looking for a story that was on AO3. Sandor goes blind after the Blackwater battle, gets Sansa as a wife as a gift from Joffrey, and they make their way to Harrenhal. If anyone knows the name of the story, I would be eternally grateful!
> 
> And thank you for reading! Your kudos and comments make my day! Only a few more chapters left, probably about 6, and then an epilogue.
> 
> Enjoy!

The decision on who would fly with who was difficult. Sansa refused to be parted from Sandor’s side, so they would have to ride together. 

No one was quite sure why Sansa had taken such a liking to the scarred warrior. Jon supposed it was because he was the last person Sansa had seen out of all of them, and his face was the most recognizable.

Arya wasn’t quite sure what drew Sansa to him, but she didn’t think it was anything romantic. Sansa would never fall for a scarred older man; he wasn’t even a lord or a knight!

Dany saw something else though. It was the subtle softening of the scarred man’s eyes when Sansa was next to him, and the way the clearly abused woman’s posture relaxed in his presence. Her new sister felt safe with the man that much was clear.

Jon wanted Sansa to travel with him, but Viserion was not large enough to hold two grown men and Sansa. So Sansa, Sandor and Dany ended up on Drogon, and Arya rode with Jon.

Sansa was apprehensive of the dragon and Sandor was scared stiff, but there really was no other way. 

The Queen had affixed a sort of saddle to the massive black dragon, one that could not hold all three of them. She sat in front of the dragon, clutching at the reigns, while the other two sat in the saddle, holding tight to whatever they could fine. She wanted to give them more time together, time where she could listen in as well.

She leaned far enough away that they wouldn’t think she could hear them, but there voices carried over the empty air.

“We’re going to die” Sandor rasped as the dragon took off.

“We will not,” Sansa, whispered, her voice soothing. The Queen chanced a quick look, and turned around. Sansa had her head tucked against his chest, his arms around her, her little hands holding them tightly. “It’ll be alright,” She murmured.

The two lapsed into silence as they continued on.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Sansa spoke up.

“Have you met my daughter, Sandor?” She questioned as they flew.

“Aye, little bird” 

“Is she happy with Jon and the Queen?” She whispered.

“Aye, she’s a happy child”

Sansa said no more as they flew. Eventually she fell asleep against him. He dared not sleep, not wanting to fall to his death.

She woke up as the sun rose over the water. She stretched, squirming in the saddle.

“How much longer?” She questioned. He shrugged, he didn’t know. She scooted forward a bit, reaching out to gently tap the Queen’s shoulder.

“Your grace?” She questioned. The Queen turned easily, smiling at them.

“You’re awake!” 

“I am” She nodded. “Pray, how much longer?”

“We’ll stop as soon as we seen land to stretch and such. Maybe another hour, perhaps two,”

“Thank you, your Grace” She scooted back to her original spot, pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arm back around her.

Nearly two hours later, they spotted land.

“Finally” He muttered. Sansa laughed quietly. The dragon landed on the shore. Sandor climbed off the blasted thing, cursing the long trip. His legs were like jello, especially his bad leg. 

“Your Grace” He helped her down. She didn’t seem to even mind the long trip. He helped Sansa down next. She stretched with a grimace on her face. He was glad to see that at least he wasn’t the only one.

They spent half an hour or so on land before mounting the dragon again. 

As they got closer and closer to Winterfell, Sansa grew stiffer and stiffer.

Sandor was at a loss of what to do.

“Do you remember when you left the capital?” She questioned out of nowhere.

“Aye” He grunted.

“I should have gone with you” She whispered, “I should have trusted you”

“I was drunk, little bird, I held a knife to your throat and made you sing for me” Dany leaned back a bit to hear the interesting tale. She hadn’t heard this part yet.

“You were the only one that cared about me in the capital, I should have trusted you”

“Little bird-” 

“No, I picked the pretty face again, the flowery words. I fell for Ser Dontos and Baelish’s lies, like a stupid silly little bird” She sighed, “The only good thing about it was Joffrey’s death”  
No one spoke until they touched down in the field just outside of Winterfell. The grass was green, the trees were white and red, and there was a light snowfall. 

Sansa fell to her knees, and picked up a handful of the fluffy white stuff. Her hooded cloak had fallen, and her auburn hair blew wild in the wind.

They let her be for a few moments. Jon and Arya landed then, joining them in their circle around Sansa.

“Are you ready, Sansa?” Jon questioned.


	22. Chapter 22

“Are you ready, Sansa?” Jon questioned.

“Yes” She whispered, standing with the aid of Sandor. She drew the hood back up over her face, tugging her cloak tighter to her shoulders. It was much colder here then in Pentos.

They walked slowly to the castle, as if the redheaded woman was walking to her death. She stared deliberately ahead, her breathing sharp and shallow.

“Jon, are Gendry and Rickon back?” Arya questioned as they walked.

“Not yet” Jon replied.

‘Who is Gendry?” Sansa questioned.

“Blacksmith” Arya retorted.

“For now” The Queen replied, “He will soon be Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm’s End”

“One of Robert’s bastards” Sansa whispered, “I had heard that Cersei had killed them all”

“Not all of them” Arya grinned, “Gendry and I will be married once he is legitimized,”

“Do you love him?” Sansa questioned out of the blue.

“Excuse me?” Arya sputtered. Jon and Sandor both smirked.

“Do you love him, Arya? Or are you marrying him for his title?”

“Sansa, you have-”

“I won’t let you marry him unless you truly love him,” Sansa told her fiercely. “You cannot make her, Jon”

“I love him, truly” Arya told her sister, surprised at how that conversation had turned out. She had not expected her sister to get so defensive.

“And he treats you well?”

“Of course” Arya scoffed, then frowned. It made her ill to think that Sansa could have married such an evil man. She might have been the stronger of the two physically, but Sansa was much stronger where it mattered most.

“I am glad,” Sansa whispered. The castle came into view them, and she gasped. It was so different, yet so very much the same.

“They know we’ve arrived” Jon commented as he heard the sound of horns. The gates opened as they approached, several guards ushering them in. The banners were raised, the grey and white of the Stark’s with the Red and Black of the Targaryen’s. “Keep you hood up, Sansa, keep on walking. Clegane, lead her to the solar”

“Aye” Sandor drew her in closer.

There was a crowd awaiting them. They chanted her name. She curled closer to Sandor, willing them all away.

Sandor kept them at bay though. She found herself inside quicker then she imagined. Sandor was leading her up the stairs, leading her to her father’s old solar.

Sansa’s vision blurred as she caught sight of her little brother. He was sitting in a wheeled chair of sorts, holding hands with a beautiful woman. He looked older, stronger. 

He looked like Robb.

“Bran” She whispered. Bran smiled widely.

“Sansa” He held up his arms. She approached him and hugged him gently, but tightly. The last time she had seen her little brother he was clinging for life. Things had surely changed.

“I am so glad to see you alive and well, dear brother,” She whispered, pulling away from him.

“I could say the same of you” Bran told her, grinning, “Sansa, this is my wife, Meera of House Reed. Meera, this is my sister, Sansa”

“My lady” Meera curtsied.

‘Lady Stark” She replied, curtsying back. Meera laughed.

“Oh, I am not Lady Stark, that title belongs to you, my lady” Meera told her. She had a quiet voice, but it sounded wise, older somehow.

“Bran is lord of Winterfell, and you are his wife,” She stated, confused.

“I am not the Lord of Winterfell” Bran told her, “First off, I am not of age” He told her, “but even if I were, I would not want it. It is not mine to rule”

“I hold Winterfell for now. Robb willed it to me before he died. Winterfell has always been in the hands of the eldest Stark, be it male or female” Jon told her, “We were waiting for you to be found. It is yours”

“I do not want it,” She whispered, even though her heart broke as she said it. There was no way she would be allowed to keep it. She would need a husband for that, and no man would ever marry her when the truth came out.

“Sansa, you are the only option we have left,” Jon told her softly, “You do not have to decide now, I know it is overwhelming,”

“Jon-”

The sound of a child’s laughter froze everyone in his or her spot. The soprano bell like laughter rang clearly through the halls. The door banged open. She turned to find the source, her breath coming in short gasps as she caught sight of the little girl.

She was racing towards them, a huge smile on her face. Her red curls were flying freely behind her as she ran. She wore a grey dress with a white sash. Nymeria ran next to her, white ribbons were threaded through the direwolf’s fur.

“Big pup!” The little girl giggled, crashing into Sandor’s legs, hugging him tightly.

“Hey, little bird” He knelt and ruffled the little girl’s wild curls. Sansa’s heart clenched when he called her that. 

“No leave” The little girl told him, wagging her finger at him.

“Aye, little bird, no more leaving” He agreed, looking sadly into her grey eyes. He could not believe that something so innocent and sweet had come from his brother.

“Pup, don’t I get a hug?” Arya questioned.

‘Arry!” The little girl abandoned Sandor to hug Arya. Arya picked her up and spun her around.

“Miss me”

“Yes, I missed you” Arya nuzzled her nose, laughing.

“Pup” Dany called. The little girl’s face lit up as she raced to the Queen, demanding that the King pick her up.

“Dany” She happily sang.

“Hello, little one” Dany caressed her cheek. She looked up to Sansa to see her watching them with sad eyes. She beckoned her forward.

Sandor gave her a little nudge, pulling down her hood.

Pup’s head turned at the movement, staring at her.


	23. Chapter 23

“Mama!” Pup squirmed her way out of Jon’s arms, racing towards her mother, “Mama! Mama!” She cried, hugging her tightly. Sansa sank to the ground, hugging her daughter as she wept.

The little girl began speaking in rapid Valayrian, asking where her mother had been, if they had to go to the sky cells, and so forth. Everyone watched in awe at Pup’s little rant. They had no clue she could speak Valayrian.

“Hush, Ayla, all is well” Sansa soothed in Valayrian. 

Sandor sucked in a breath.

Ayla, the child was named.

FLASHBACK- YEARS AGO

King’s Landing

Sansa was sprawled on the cold floor of her chambers, weeping.

Her beautiful grey dress was torn and bloodied.

Robb had won some battle in the Westerlands, had killed yet another important family member of the King’s. So Sansa was punished. 

She was whipped until she passed out.

A knight carried her back to her chambers, dropping her to the cold hard ground. She could barely move, let alone climb into her bed. She was so cold, and in so much pain though.  
She heard someone knock at her door, but she couldn’t move to answer it. She couldn’t even look up to see who it was. She knew Joff had refused to allow a maester or her maid attend to her, it made him happier to know she suffered so.

“Little bird” Sandor sighed sadly as he entered the room, barring the door behind him. He approached her slowly, taking in the wreck that was her back. She heard him pick something up, and then felt his presence as he knelt beside her.

Lukewarm, slightly cold, water sloshed onto her back as he carefully cleaned the blood from her. She hissed and squeezed her eyes shut as he did it.

“Ssh, it’s alright, little bird” He told her. 

And then he started to hum. It was not a tune she recognized, but it was relaxing. It made her calm.

“What is that song?” She questioned.

“Don’t know,” He rasped.

“Does it have words?” She questioned.

“Aye”

“Do you know them?”

“Aye”

“Will you sing them?” She questioned, “It distracts me” And it did distract her, at least a little bit, from the pain.

He added the words, sung deeply in his raspy voice. It wasn’t as perfect as her voice, but it was perfect to her.

He continued to sing under his breath as he dressed her wounds, wrapping gauze tightly around her back. He helped her into a clean, thick bed gown, and then carefully picked her up from the ground.

“Thank you,” She whispered as he pulled the thick duvet and furs over her. “I’ve never heard the song, where did you learn it?” She questioned. She really had liked it. It was a beautiful song. 

“My sister used to sing it,” He admitted.

“You have a sister?”

“Had, she’s long gone” He grumbled, his tone suddenly darker.

“Your brother” She guessed sadly. She knew the horror the eldest Clegane was capable of.

“Aye, little bird” He sighed.

“What was her name?”

“Aylanor”


	24. Chapter 24

Everyone was surprised with Pup’s Valayrian. No one had thought to try that language before.

And her name, Ayla, was a surprise.

“Her name is Ayla?” Arya questioned, interrupting their reunion.

“Yes” Sansa scrunched her brow, “What did she tell you it was?”

“We’ve been calling her Pup”

Sansa smiled slightly.

“I always called her a little pup,” She recalled fondly.

“Why Ayla?” Jon asked.

“It’s short for Aylanor” She whispered, looking slightly to Sandor. “It means light”

Ayla, the little pup, asked her a question in Valayrian.

“Hush, child, we are never going back” Sansa soothed, “I am so sorry, little one,”

“For what, mama?” Pup questioned.

“For everything” Sansa’s hand ghosted over the faint scar. The little girl put her hand up to it.

“Gone” She told her in common.

“Yes, the scar is gone” Sansa whispered in Valayrian.

“Gone” She repeated again, patting it.

“She does that a lot,” Jon told her.

“Mama stay here?” Ayla questioned, tugging at Sansa’s hair, “Pup stay here?”

“Yes, little pup, we will both stay here” Sansa told her in common. Ayla frowned and asked a question in Valayrian. Sansa laughed.

“Yes, we will speak in common” Sansa told her, then repeated it in Valayrian for effect.

“No common” Ayla pouted.

“Why does she only know Valayrian?” Bran questioned curiously.

“Baelish” Sansa told them softly, “I will explain later, but not in front of little ears” 

“I can take Ayla to the common room if you wish,” Meera offered.

“No” Sansa shook her head, “I suppose it is almost time for her to retire to bed anyways. I will put her to bed, and then we all shall talk” She told them. “Sandor, would you mind escorting us?”

“Of course, my lady” Sandor offered.

“Thank you” Sansa smiled slightly, “Ayla, time for bed”

“Sing?” The little questioned, her face lighting up.

Sansa nodded.

“Say goodnight, little pup” Sansa told her.

Ayla hugged and kissed everyone in the room.

“We will have food brought up, and then we will talk, okay?” Jon questioned as Sansa picked the little girl up.

“Yes” Sansa sighed. 

Sandor led her through the castle. They walked in silence; only Ayla’s occasional humming could be heard.

“This way” Sandor led her down the family wing. They passed her room, and then Arya’s, and stopped at Jon’s old room. Jon and the Queen must stay in the guest wing or the master suite if Bran and Meera did not take it.

She dismissed the nursemaid; she could get her daughter ready for bed on her own. Sandor had stopped outside the door and was standing as if on guard.

“Mama like?” Ayla questioned, holding up a blue nightgown.

“Very pretty” She told her, pulling the blue gown over her thin body. It was good to see that the little girl had gained weight since the last time she saw her. She was treated well here. She pulled the nightgown over her head, and then picked her up, sitting her on the bed.

“Your hair is a mess, little pup,” She told her, dragging the brush across it as Ayla squirmed and complained in Valayrian.

“Ow” She yelped.

‘Like a little wolf” She cooed, plaiting it now.

“I’m a hound!” Ayla barked. “Woof, woof”

“You are fearsome”

“Grr, grr” She tied the ribbon to keep the plait in place, releasing Ayla. She jumped around the bed on all fours, barking and growling.

She laughed at her carefree little girl.

Ayla stumbled on the bed, missing her step and falling towards the stone floors.

“Ayla!” She screeched, lunging for the child, but it was too late. Ayla landed on the hard ground on her hands and knees. She rushed to her, pulling the sobbing little girl into her arms.

Sandor had barged into the room when she had screamed. She looked helplessly up at him. She didn’t know how to comfort her own daughter. Ayla wouldn’t stop crying.

Sandor knelt next to them, reaching out to turn Ayla in her arms. Ayla looked up at him with her watery eyes. She held out her little hand, which was scraped slightly.  
“Ow” She told him, hiccuping from crying.

“Aye, ow” Sandor nodded, “You gotta kiss it better, little bird” He whispered so Ayla wouldn’t hear. She gently took her daughters little hand and pressed a kiss to it. It wasn’t bleeding freely, just scraped.

“Better?” Sansa questioned as Ayla’s tears slowed slightly.

“Too” Ayla pouted, holding her hand out to Sandor.

He kissed it better as well, and Ayla smiled.

“Better” She told them as Sansa wiped the tears from t he little girls cheek and the snot from her nose with her handkerchief. “Sing?”

“What song?”

Ayla hummed a tune, and Sansa nodded. Sandor went to leave.

“No, big pup stay” Ayla pouted.

“You can stay, Sandor” Sansa told him. He didn’t want to intrude of their bonding time, but stayed when they asked.

“Okay” Sansa stood from the ground, placing Ayla into the bed, and under all the furs and blankets. She sat atop of them herself, allowing Ayla to rest her head against her shoulder.

“Deep in the meadow, under the willow, a bed of grass, a soft green pillow. Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes and when you awake, the sun will rise. Here it's safe, here it's warm, here the daisies guard you from harm. Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true. Here is the place where I love you,”

Sansa’s sweet singing voice had not changed. Ayla was asleep by the time she finished her singing, and Sandor was near tears.

Sansa looked up at him and smiled slightly. He went to speak, but she covered her lips, pointing to the door. He nodded and stood. She pressed a soft kiss to her little girl’s temple, and joined him in the hall.

“Follow me,” She whispered, leading him down the corridor. "We need to talk"

He found himself being led to the chambers he knew had once belonged to her. Although the damage to Winterfell had been extreme, the family wing was all but untouched.

“Sit” She stated softly, sitting upon the bed. She ran her hand over the thick furs, her eyes closed. He sat next to her, waiting for her to speak again.


	25. Chapter 25

"It isn't tell anyone this, but I trust you, Sandor" She whispered, "Please do not think any less of me when you know the truth"

"I could never think less of you, little bird"

She smiled faintly and nodded. She took several deep breathes before speaking again.

"Baelish hid me as his bastard daughter when I first arrived at the Vale” She told him softly, “Alayne Stone, after his mother. I was to take care of Robert Arryn, be a friend for him. My Aunt thought that Petyr had brought me there so that I could marry my cousin when he came of age. But Petyr had bigger plans. I don’t think he ever truly could separate my mother and I in his mind. It wasn’t so bad at first, a few awkward touches, kisses to the cheek, but then he got brazen. My Aunt, his wife, caught him kissing me a fortnight into my stay. He threw her from the moon door the next morning, blamed it on the singer”

She shook her head as if trying to dispel the memories.

“It was common knowledge around the court that Lord Lannister had not bedded me, that I was still a maiden. Petyr planned to have the marriage annulled, and then marry me off to Harry Hardying, who was set to inherit the Eyrie once Robert Arryn died. He needed to get a septon to declare me a maid still so that I could marry. I left the Vale with three guards, because what bastard daughter needed more then that?” Sansa laughed bitterly.

“We were heading to the Quiet Isle,” She whispered,

The Quiet Isle, the place he had spent a few full moons recovering from his leg wound. She was so close.

“It was a fortnight into our travels, we were just past the Saltpans when we were attacked”

She took a deep breath.

“The three guards were easily killed. These men were skilled sell swords and disgraced knights” Sansa told him, “They came from Harrenhal”

Harrenhal. His blood ran cold. 

“They were on their way to King’s Landing, they were going to catch a ship from the Saltpans” She was deliberating speaking slowly now, as if she did not want to finish the tale. “I was a pretty little thing, they told me that I would be a present for their leader, that he liked to break in maidens, liked to break them,”

“How did you escape him?” He questioned, knowing how his brother liked to keep his playthings around.

“Baelish ransomed me, gave him gold and silver and a few wenches for fun. Your brother did not recognize me. He didn’t know the power he held, and for that I am lucky. He thought I was Alayne stone, Baelish’s bastard daughter. He thought Baelish was foolish for paying so much for a bastard. I took the herbs and such that the maids and maester gave me, but they didn’t work,” She whispered.

“Once Baelish found out, I was worthless to marry off, but I was still Sansa Stark. He locked me in the cells. Ayla was born there. When she turned three, he brought me to his chambers. I was allowed to visit her once a day to bring her food. He kept me as his bed warmer. He kept my hair died brown, called me Cat, like my mother, called me Alayne as well” She whispered, shuddering.

“When word came that the Queen was making her way to the Vale, he planned our escape. Ayla wasn’t going to be allowed to come; she was useless in his plans. She was ill already from being kept in the dark, dank cells. I just wanted it to end. I broke a vase in Petyr’s chambers one day, and stole a shard of the glass when Petyr went to call a maid to clean it up. The next day, the day we were planning to leave, he gave me an hour to say goodbye. She was asleep. I didn’t want her to suffer. I was going to kill her and then myself” She sobbed.

Sandor wrapped his arm around her in silence.

“But he knew something was going to happen. He came to get me just I was about to slit her throat” She hiccuped. “My hand slipped, and her cheek was cut. She woke up screaming and crying. Petyr allowed me to soothe her and say goodbye for a few minutes. I tore the hem of my dress to wrap the wound. She was still screaming and crying when he dragged me out of there”

She swallowed visibly. Sandor was silent above her.

“Sandor?” She whispered after a few minutes, reaching out to gently touch his cheek. He sighed and turned to her, but refused to looked at her face.

“You hate me,” She whispered sadly.

“No” He told her, still not looking at her, “Never”

“Then why won’t you look at me?” She questioned, “Is it because I meant to kill my own daughter, your niece?”

“No, you had no other choice, little bird. You meant to end her suffering,”

“Then why?” She questioned, begging him to look at her. She knew she was a tarnished woman, she knew she had brought shame to her family, but she hadn’t expected Sandor to care about that. “I never wanted it. Every single night I begged and pleaded for him to stop, but then he would threaten Ayla, and I had to pretend to like it. Every single time he had me, I would pray to every god, the old, the new, the seven, anyone, that you would come and save me,” She admitted, tears running freely down her cheeks. “I know I am nothing but a common whore now”

“No” He reached out and grabbed her cheeks before she could look down in shame, “Do not say that, little bird” His grey eyes bore into hers. 

“Then why wouldn’t you look at me?” She questioned. If he didn’t despise her for hurting Ayla, and he wasn’t disgusted by her filth, what was the cause?

“I can’t” He whispered, “I can’t without knowing that I failed to protect you. That I left you in King’s Landing without any protection”

“It wasn’t your job to protect me”

“It was,” He told her, “You had no one else. You were just an innocent little girl”

“You tried. I should have left with you, I trusted you. You were the only one I truly ever trusted after my father died. The only one I trust now” She turned his head slightly so that he was forced to look at her.

“Have I truly grown that hideous?” She questioned with a small smile.

“Never” He told her, “Not you, little bird. You only get prettier with age” He said softly, gently caressing her smooth cheek.

“You are not your brother, Sandor, I do not blame you,” She whispered, staring into his grey eyes, “I named her Aylanor for your sister, I sang her the songs you sung to your sister. You always spoke with such adoration whenever you spoke of her. The only way I managed to move on from the whole horrid ordeal was to know that some part of her was tied to you, not your brother”

“If he weren’t dead already I would be halfway to the capital to kill him again” He whispered.

“I know” She replied. She had no doubt that he would have avenged her honor. “But you killed him already. That is justice enough for me,” She told him. “He died twice after all, once for me and once for you”

“That isn’t enough”

“It has to be,” She whispered. “I’ve moved on. Ayla is my daughter, not his. She is nothing like him, is she?” 

“No” He shook his head, “She’s more like your hellion of a sister” Sansa laughed.

“I am glad she has been so happy here,” She told him. Her smile disappeared then, “We should go back. They are probably wondering what took so long”

He helped her up from the bed, and tucked her arm under his. They walked slowly back to the solar. Sansa wanted to stop and look at everything.

When they got to the outside of the solar, they both paused, looking at the thick oak door. None of the guards were around. They had been dismissed for the night.

“Sandor” Sansa tugged on the sleeve of his tunic. He looked down as she raised herself on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his ruined mouth. Her soft hands cupped his cheeks, both the good and the bad, as he placed a gentle hand against her own smooth cheek.

She drew away to catch her breath, a small smile on her face.

“I’ve wanted to do that again since you left your bloody white cloak on the floor of my bedchambers in the capital” She whispered.

He had no words as she pulled open the doors, entering the solar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know I few people were hoping that Sandor would turn out to be Ayla's father, but alas, he isn't, as much as I wish he could have been. It just wouldn't have worked with my story line. Gregor is the sperm donor, nothing else. 
> 
> Now that the details are out about Ayla's coming to be, this story will soon come to an end. I have the next 2 chapters written and 2-3 more chapters planned after that.
> 
> Thank you so much for you kind reviews and kudos!


	26. Chapter 26

Jon was in the middle of speaking when they entered the room. They had been gone for a little over an hour. The food was getting cold.

“Ah, there you are” Jon stopped whatever he was saying and looked up, smiling, “Ayla is asleep now?”

“Sound asleep” Sansa nodded, sitting on the plush chair by the fire. It was her favorite spot as a child. Even though the chair was different, it was almost identical to the one that used to reside there. Sandor leaned against the door; hand on the pommel of his sword.

“Clegane, you may sit if you wish” Jon told him, pointing to the chair next to Sansa’s left. Sandor shook his head.

“Okay” Jon shrugged. “Are you hungry, Sansa?”

“Not really” She murmured. She was unaccustomed to food whenever she pleased. She had been fed at the same time everyday for the past few years, eating when she pleased would take some getting used to.

“We have lemon cakes,” Arya told her, holding out a platter of delicious looking treats. Sansa looked green at the sight of them.

“No, thank you” She whispered, looking away. Memories of Baelish and lemon cakes came to her mind. He had known that they were her favorite, just as they were her mother's favorite. She shuddered.

“They were your favorite”

“They are no longer a favorite of mine,” She told them. “I am really not hungry. I am tired though, so may we continue?”

‘Of course” Jon nodded. 

“Why does Ayla only know Valayrian?” Bran questioned. He had clearly been itching to know ever since the little girl spoke so rapidly and fluidly in the language.

“She knows some common, the basic words” Sansa murmured, “The only language Baelish did not know was Valayrian, because he was never taught as a child. He knew some butchered Dothraki, was fluent in Braavosi, Lyseni, and Myrish, but he did not know High Valayrian,”

“We should have tried Valayrian when she first arrived, I told you, Jon!” Bran said triumphantly. “Jon said no because he didn’t want her introduced to so many weird languages”

“You win, little brother,” Jon smiled briefly. “I know that you don’t want to tell us, Sansa, but we need to know what happened to you after you left the capital,”

“Jon” She whispered, “Please, don’t make me”

“Sansa, we need to hold those who hurt you accountable”

"It does not matter anymore"

"It matters to us, Sansa" Bran spoke, "They hurt one of our pack, they need to be dealt with"

“Baelish is dead” She told them, “That’s justice enough”

“Was he Ayla’s father?”

“No” She shook her head, “No, they did not call him Littlefinger for nothing, brother. He was hardly capable of siring any heirs” Jon looked ill at that information. In the back of everyone’s mind, they had known what horror Sansa must have gone through, but to hear it confirmed, it was worse. The Queen and Meera looked at her with pity. Bran looked strangely blank, his face gave nothing away. Arya was determinedly not making eye contact with any of them.

“Sansa, who is her father?” Jon questioned.

“I can’t,” She whispered. “Don’t make me, Jon”

“Sansa, please” 

She looked to Sandor, begging him to help her. She did not want Jon to know the truth, she did not want Ayla to carry that stigma for the rest of her life. Sandor had to understand that, he had lived in his brother's shadow for years. He nodded his head to her, and stepped forward.

“I am” Sandor rasped, staring straight at Jon, “I am her father”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, but the next chapter will be posted tomorrow or Monday, and then after that one or two more! Thanks so much for sticking with it!


	27. Chapter 27

“What!” Arya exclaimed, her jaw dropping at the mans lie. Why had he done such a thing? Jon was already standing. The Queen was trying to hold him back, but it wasn't working.

“Sandor!” Sansa had gasped, looking at the scarred man with wide eyes. She didn’t look angry though, just surprised. Meera and Bran showed no surprise. 

“You monster!” Jon had managed to break away from the Queen.

As soon as the four words left his mouth, Jon was on top of Sandor. Everyone was yelling and screaming. It was chaos. The King was surprisingly strong for such a thin man. He was pommeling every inch he could reach.

“Jon! No!” Sansa was screaming. Sandor could see her pale hands pulling at her brother’s tunic. She was going to get hurt if she continued to stay this close.

“Move away, Sansa” He managed to yell as he dodged a punch to the face and ended up taking in his arm.

“No! Stop it, right now!” She screamed. Jon was in a blind rage. She took an elbow to the face as he pulled back to punch Sandor again.

Sandor heard her gasp of pain and watched her fall backwards.

He rolled over, tossing the King to the side. 

“Little bird” He was kneeling in front of her, pulling her up into a sitting position as she held her nose. It was bleeding slightly.

“Here” Arya passed him a kerchief. He held it to her face lightly.

“Get away from my sister” Jon growled, watching at the sheer stupidity of the brute. The monster had just admitted to raping his sister and he had the audacity to approach her again!

“No” Arya stood in front of her brother, stopping him. “Don’t”

“Arya, what the hell?” Jon exclaimed, surprised and a little hurt by his sister’s blatant picking of sides.

“Let Sansa speak, let her explain” She begged.

“That man raped her! And we’ve treated him like family for years!”

“He didn’t rape me!” Sansa blurted out. Her voice was thick from the blood and crying.

“What?”

“I said that he did not rape me. Sandor Clegane did not rape me”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I laid with him willingly, more then willingly. He was my husband,” She whispered.

“What?” Even Sandor had a surprised look on his face. If he was going to risk his life to protect her from shame, she was going to protect him from being beheaded.

“We married in the Godswood, before the battle” She whispered, “It was a secret. I wasn’t going to let the Lannister’s marry me off to whomever they pleased. I wasn’t going to be a pawn any longer. We had planned to run off during the battle”

“You mean to say that you willingly married and gave your maidenhead to the Lannister’s Hound?” Jon repeated.

“Do not call him a Hound” She scowled, “And yes. Is that so hard to believe?” She questioned, “Ayla has the same eyes as him, and her name, Aylanor, that was Sandor’s sister’s name”

“I want you to look Bran in the eyes and tell him that Sandor Clegane did not rape you, Sansa” Jon told her, still glaring at the two of them.

“What?” She questioned.

“Bran knows when people lie, he can see it in your eyes” Meera told her.

“Bran?” She questioned. He nodded. Sandor helped her stand. He let go of her arm when Jon glared at him. Arya stood between the two men, her hand on the pommel of needle.

Sansa made her way to Bran on shaky legs. Everything had gotten out of control. Sandor had saved her the torture of admitting what had really happened, while at the same time, he almost killed himself in the process. Jon could have his head for this.

“Give me your hands” Bran whispered. Meera pointedly looked away. She grasped her brother’s fragile hands and looked into his blue eyes.

“Tell me the truth, Sansa,” He whispered calmly.

“I was not raped by Sandor Clegane,” She told him, staring into his eyes. They were unnerving. The blue was so deep and endless. They were drawing her in.

And then she was looking at herself from Bran’s perspective. She gasped, and blinked, and she was looking at Bran again.

“You warged into me” Bran accused, glaring at her slightly. 

“I what?”

“Bran, not now” Jon snapped, “Was she telling the truth?”

“Yes” Bran nodded. “She is telling the truth”

“Dammit” Jon rubbed his face. “Clegane!” He barked.

“Your grace?” Sandor rasped.

“Why didn’t you tell us about this before?”

“About having a kid? I didn’t know,” He grumbled.

“No, about your marriage to my sister” He growled. “I could have your head for this”

“You had best take mine as well, then” Sansa told him. “And why would he tell you? So that you could kill him?”

“Why did you leave her in the capital?” The Queen asked.

“I-” Sandor went to speak but she cut him off,

“When the time came to leave, I was petrified. I couldn’t do it. He had already deserted though, he had to leave or they would kill him. I was so horrid to him!” She fake sobbed, “I called him a disgraced sell sword, and other awful things. I told him to leave me and never come back”

“And you left her” Jon accused.

“Aye” Sandor hung his head. He wasn’t sure if the little bird would end up saving him or killing him. “And I’ve been trying to atone for it ever since” In a way, it was the truth. He had saved Arya and Rickon for Sansa, not for anyone or anything else. He had done it because he had failed to protect her.

“This is too much” Jon collapsed next to the Queen on the couch. “I should have your head for this, Clegane”

“As you wish, your Grace” He grumbled.

“Sansa” Jon called. Sansa stood a bit taller, and looked to her elder brother.

“Yes?” She questioned.

“You were not forced into marriage to the Hound, were you?”

“No” She shook her head, “It was my idea” She smiled slightly there. It was her idea. She had made the bloody thing up.

“And you wish to remain married to him?”

“Yes” She nodded vigorously.

“Clegane” Jon glared. “I want you to look at Bran and tell him that you love Sansa”

The idea of looking into the strange boys eyes while admitting his love for the little bird was unnerving, but he grumbled and kneeled next to the boy. He reached out and grabbed Sandor’s hands, gripping them tightly.

“Do you love my sister?” Bran questioned, his voice going eerie.

“Aye, I love Sansa Stark,” He rasped.

Bran blinked a few times, surprised by the honestly in the Hound’s voice. He was not lying.

“He speaks the truth,” Bran whispered, looking to his brother.

“Sansa, you next”

Sansa sighed, but approached her brother, smiling widely at Sandor as she knelt next to him. She took her brothers hands within her own, and looked into his eyes.

“I love Sandor Clegane,” She told him without being asked. Bran blinked again, and nodded to Jon.

“I don’t like this, I want you to know” Jon told them, “But if you were married in the eyes of the old gods, then there is nothing I can do about it” He sighed, “But you will be married by a septon as soon as possible so that it cannot be disputed”

“Yes, your grace” Sansa nodded.

Jon sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“You don’t need to call me your grace, Sansa. I am your brother first and foremost,” He told her, “After all that you have gone through, I just want you to be safe and happy”

“Sandor makes me happy, Jon” She whispered, “And he has always protected me”

“I know” He nodded, “I can see it now, why he went through such trouble to save Arya and Rickon” Jon nodded. “I am still angry at you, Clegane, but I understand a bit about forbidden love”

“You did marry your Aunt” Arya pointed out, dispelling the tension in the room a bit. The Queen laughed.

“That you did, my king” Dany replied. “Now, I think it is past time we all went to bed. We have all had an exhausting day” She stood, and took Jon’s arm, “Shall we, love?”

“Of course” Jon nodded. He glared at Sandor as they left, but everyone knew why the Queen had taken him out first. He did not need to see where Sandor or Sansa would be sleeping.

“I am tired as well” Arya yawned, “Goodnight” She hugged her sister tightly, then her brother and Meera. She turned at last to the Hound.

“It seems we are related now, Hound”

“Aye, that we are, little wolf bitch”

“I can’t kill you or I’d be a kinslayer”

“Aye, same for me” He nodded. Arya smiled, and held out her hand for him to shake cautiously.

“Thank you” She whispered, and then left.

“May I speak with you for a second, Sandor?” Bran asked. Sansa frowned, but Sandor nodded.

“Aye, my lord”

“Come, I’ll wait outside with you, Lady Stark” Meera told her, dragging Sansa out of the room and into the hallway.

“You are an honorable man,” Bran told him, staring at him with his strange eyes. Sandor had the feeling that the most powerful of the Stark wargs knew the truth of Sansa’s captivity. There was something in the boys eyes that gave it away, “Strange type of honor, but honor nonetheless. You will protect her, like you have already done.”

“Aye” He rasped.

“Good” Bran nodded. “Then I shall leave you”

He wheeled himself out of the room. Sandor could hear Sansa bidding him and Meera goodnight.

Sansa came back into the room after that, a queer look upon her face.

Without words, she hugged him tightly, wrapping her thin arms around his neck, pressing her face against his burnt cheek.

“Thank you” She whispered over and over again. 

After a few minutes she pulled away.

“Why did you do it?” She questioned.

“Why did you tell him we were married?” He countered

“Are you angry that I told him we were married?” She questioned, looking up at him under her lashes.

“No, little bird, bloody well saved my head”

“I won’t have let him kill you, I would’ve told the truth of it then” She whispered.

“No, I wouldn’t let you” He told her, “I did it to protect you, you and the little pup. He was my brother, little bird”

Her heart fell. He had done it out of duty, familial guilt. 

“Oh” She whispered, pulling away. “Of course” She nodded briskly. “I should go to bed. I’m quite tired”

“Sansa” He hollered, quite confused at her sudden and abrupt departure. She was already out the door though. “Bloody women”


	28. Chapter 28

_"Oh” She whispered, pulling away. “Of course” She nodded briskly. “I should go to bed. I’m quite tired”_

_“Sansa” He hollered, quite confused at her sudden and abrupt departure. She was already out the door though. “Bloody women” He hissed as he jogged after her._

 

She was not in the corridor. He traveled the path to her room, but the door was open, and the chambers were empty.

 

He checked in Ayla’s room, but the child was alone and peacefully sleeping. He stopped for a moment there, just watching her sleep, his niece. It was strange to think of it, that something so beautiful and sweet had come from his brother. It still made his blood boil to think of what that monster had done to Sansa. As long as he lived, he would never let the stigma of that affect Sansa or Ayla.

 

He pulled himself away and moved on down the corridor. He tried the sept, but she was not there either.

 

He went room from room, dining hall to the kitchens to the guest rooms to the washing room, but she was nowhere in the castle.

 

He grabbed his winter cloak before leaving the warm walls of the fortress. He spotted her footfalls in the light snow that covered the ground. He followed them to the Godswood.

 

She was sitting in front of the huge wierwood tree, the face carved centuries ago still weeping red sap that reminded him too much of blood. Her auburn red hair was illuminated by the moonlight, almost an exact match to the weeping tree. She had her boots and stockings off, her feet idly dancing in the warm spring water.

 

“Sansa” He called, as he got closer. She looked up in surprise. He was shocked to see tear tracks on her pale cheeks, startled to see that her eyes were rimmed in red from crying.

 

“I did not want to be found,” She told him, turning back to the water.

 

“Aye, but you left footprints clear as day” He grumbled, setting himself down next to her. His left leg protested in pain, but he rubbed it away.

 

They sat in silence for a few moments before he decided to break it.

 

“You gonna tell me why you left so suddenly?” He asked.

 

“No” She mumbled. She wore no cloak, only her dress. He wrapped his cloak around her shoulders to keep her warm. Last thing they needed was for her to get sick so soon after she arrived. “Thank you” She whispered.

 

They sat in silence for a few more moments until finally she broke it.

 

“I am going to tell Jon the truth,” She informed him.

 

“No, you’re not”

 

“I am,” She said defiantly, “And then you will not have to stay with me out of guilt”

 

He laughed. He could not help it. That was why she had run! She was hurt by his words, she did not know how much he truly loved her, had always loved her.

 

“Sandor!” She slapped his arm.

 

“I’m sorry, little bird” He chucked, “You’re still so blind”

 

“I am not,” She hissed haughtily, mad now.

 

“Sansa, I’m not doing this just out of guilt,” He told her, tilting her stubborn little face to look her in the eye, “I’m doing it for you, because you and Ayla mean a lot more to me then you know”

 

“How much?” She questioned, “How much do I mean to you?”

 

“You mean the world to me, little bird. There is not one thing one this godforsaken earth that I would not do for you”

 

“Truly?”

 

“Aye”

 

“Say it then” She challenged, “Say it aloud”

 

“Sansa Stark, I love you,” He told her. Her blue eyes welled up with more tears as she smiled. She looked years younger. She lost the haunted look to her eyes when she smiled like that.

 

“I love you as well,” She told him, wrapping her arms around him. His scarred, ruined lips met her soft, delicate ones in a heated kiss.

 

Things got out of hand in their passion, but when her hand reached the outside of his breeches, he came back to reality. Her face was flushed and the top of her gown was slipping down to reveal more skin then proper. Her lips were swollen, and her breast heaved with exertion. He knew she was no maid, but he wasn’t going to go any further with her, not now. He placed her hand in her lap and pulled the cloak back around her shoulders to hide her flesh.

 

She frowned.

 

‘What is it? Did I do something wrong?” She looked nervous.

 

“No, never” He told her.

 

“Did you not like it?”

 

“I liked it more then you can imagine” And he did. Just the feel of her warm little hand over the roughspun of his breeches had his head spinning with lust.

 

“Do you not want me?” She again questioned, looking hurt.

 

“I want you, little bird, but not like this. We’re going to be married in truth first. You deserve that”

 

She smiled again, lighting up her whole face.

 

“I do not deserve you,” she whispered.

 

“It is I that doesn’t deserve you, little bird. Far to pretty for the scarred likes of me. Queen of the North and the scarred dog”

 

“Beauty is not what appears on the outside, I’ve learnt that over the years” She whispered, “You are beautiful where it matters most, Sandor Clegane, believe that”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is basically the last chapter. There will be an epilogue that I will post in a few days. Thanks so much for commenting and leaving kudos!


	29. Epilogue

Epilogue

She stretched and rolled over, her head immediately coming into contact with her husband’s solid form. He was bare-chested, his skin warm against her cheek. She moved her hands up, ghosting them along the hard planes of his muscled form.

‘Morning” He mumbled, his large calloused hand capturing hers right in front of her face. She stretched forward and pressed a kiss to his hand.

“Morning” She replied softly. His other hand skimmed along her back, coming to rest at the curve of her waist. “I don’t want to get out of this bed,” She admitted. She heard him chuckle.

“Me neither, little bird”

As if the gods had heard her words, a loud knocking came from the door area. Sandor chuckled as he sat up and pulled his breeches on, much to her disappointment.

“What is it?” He barked at the guard that had knocked.

“King Jon has arrived, my lord” At the sound of the stammering guards term, she got out of bed and slipped into her robe.

“Don’t call me my lord, boy” Sandor barked just as she finished tying it. She walked over to see which one it was.

It was Cerywn, a boy ten and eight at the most. He was one of the green boys that had begun his post only a few moons ago.

“Sandor” She chastised, “Thank you, Cerywn, you may leave now”

‘Yes, your Grace” He bowed and ran off. The guard at their door, one of the older guards, Llewellyn, stood smirking. He had clearly not bothered to inform Cerywn of Sandor’s preferences.

“Is there something funny, Llewellyn?” She questioned with an arched brow. It was a move she had spent years practicing.

“No, your Grace” He replied, his smirk fading a bit. 

“Good” She remarked. “Come on, love, we must get ready now”

“They’re bloody early,” Sandor grumbled as he shut the door. He simply pulled out a clean pair of breeches and a tunic from his wardrobe, while she had to call her maid to help her dress.

“Sandor, will you go make sure that Rickon is presentable?” She asked as the maid arrived. He was as dressed as he was going to get for the day. “And put your cloak on!” She called as he left.

He normally wore black, grey or brown clothing, which fit the colors of House Stark, but the only article of clothing he allowed the direwolf to be stitched onto, save for formal pieces, was his cloak, which had a simple hem of grey wolves. As her King Consort, a title he disliked, he had to wear the sigil more often.

“Is there a certain dress you’d like to wear today, your Grace?” The maid questioned as she opened the wardrobe.

“The grey and white one” She told her, “With the pearls” She added. She had so many grey and white dresses. The maid, Sarah, pulled out the gown and hung it over the doorframe, urging her to sit so that she could start her hair.

She brushed the auburn curls gently and then plaited them in a northern style. She pinned in some pearls to matching the gown, and then spritzed rose oil on her neck and wrists.

“Which crown, your Grace?” Sarah questioned. She had two crowns, one that resembled Robb’s old crown, Valayrian steel with spikes and a dangerous look, and circlet that Lord Manderly gifted her on her coronation, made of silver, diamonds, and pearls.

“The circlet” She replied. The steel crown was made to intimidate. She did not need to intimidate her cousin or Queen Daenerys. They were visiting for friendly reasons.

Sarah fixed the circlet to her head and pinned her necklace around her neck. When that was done, she helped her into her slip, and then into the gown. It cinched beneath her bosom and flowed out in folds of a grey and ivory silk which was dotted with freshwater pearls.

“You look beautiful, your Grace” Sarah told her.

“Thank you, Sarah” She replied, fixing an errant curl. “You may leave now”

Sarah curtsied and was gone. She took a deep breath as she looked at herself in the mirror. She was a stronger person now, Sandor had healed her, being in the North had healed her.

“Your Grace?” Sandor entered the room with a smirk. He had his cloak thrown over his shoulder, his sword belt at his hip. 

“Is Rickon prepared?” She questioned.

“He’s presentable” He remarked.

“And the rest of them?”

“As good as it’s going to get” He replied with another grin. She smiled back and took his arm.

“Then let us not keep them waiting”

They made their way towards the Great Hall. It seemed that Jon and the rest of the group had already entered the castle.

She saw Ayla first, her little girl, who wasn’t so little anymore. She was chatting with Jon. At the age of 17, Ayla had spent the past year in the Stormland’s with Arya and Gendry. She had grown taller, her auburn hair longer, and her physique slimmer. Arya had been teaching her to fight.

“Papa!” Ayla cried, racing forward to embrace Sandor. He wrapped his arms around her as she crashed against his chest, carefully avoiding his sword.

“Little pup” She heard Sandor rasp quietly. She pulled away from his embrace and turned to her.

“Mama” She smiled, hugging her tightly as well.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,“ She murmured, hugging her daughter back.

“Safe and sound, just like I promised” Arya retorted. She embraced her sister as well, even though she struggled.

“Safe and sound, like I promised” Jon retorted, smirking at Arya. Ayla had spent two months in the capital on her journey back from the Stormland’s. Jon shook Sandor’s hand, and then they embraced as well.

“You look well, your Grace” He remarked.

“As do you, your Grace” She replied. It amused Arya when they both had to call each other, your Grace. “And where are the rest of them?” She questioned. The Queen wasn’t in the room; neither was Gendry, or the children.

“Dragons” Jon remarked. “Ayla wanted to see you, though”

“Ah, I suppose that is where Rickon and the rest are as well”

“They shall be here shortly, I would imagine” Jon replied, “Why don’t you tell you parents about your suitor, Ayla?”

“Uncle Jon!” Ayla groaned as she and Sandor both looked to her in concern.

“She’s ten and seven, too young to marry” Sandor rasped.

“I am not!” Ayla retorted, “He’s a good man, papa!”

“And who is he? Is he a knight? Some lord’s son?”

“He’s a wildling” Ayla replied with a dreamy smile on her face, “His name is Sam”

“Sam the wilding?” Sandor rasped to clarify. Arya snickered.

“A wildling? Where did you find a wildling in the capital?”

“He’s the son of Maester Sam”

“Maester Sam is not a wildling, Ayla,” She pointed out.

“Adopted son”

“And his true parents?”

“Mance Ryder” Jon answered. “Politically, the Northerners will love him”

“We will discuss this later” She told them as the sound of children rang out through the hall. The others must have been getting closer. 

“Papa!” Prince Daeron Eddard Targaryen, the six year old heir to the Southern Kingdoms, raced into the room with, his dark curls bouncing, and his violet eyes bright. Ghost ran beside him, the princes’ personal guard.

“Daeron!” The Dragon Queen scolded as she entered the room next, a toddler with silver curls and grey eyes in her arms. Prince Aemon Robb Targaryen was a boy of two.

“Hey, buddy” Jon ruffled the elder boy’s curls, “Where are your manners?” He questioned. “Greet your Aunt and Uncle properly”

“Aunt Sansa, your Grace” Daeron bowed before hugging her around her legs. He turned to Sandor, “Clegane” He shook his hand, trying to act tough. Sandor did not like to be called Uncle.

“Daeron, how tall you’ve grown” She commented, “Would you care to introduce me to your little brother, nephew?” She hadn’t seen the babe yet; only having read the descriptions Ayla, Dany, and Jon provided her with. Dany stepped forward with the babe in her arms.

“We call him Aemon” Daeron told her.

“Aemon, a good name for the little dragon” She reached forward and caressed the flop of silver hair. The babe gurgled and giggled at her touch. Dany cooed back at her son. “You look well, your Grace”

“As do you, your Grace” She replied. “I assume Jon let slip about Ayla’s suitor?” She questioned with a grin.

“He did” She replied, “I suppose a wildling is better then a southerner” 

“He really is a good lad,” The Queen told her. “Better then some of this lot” She said loudly as the rest of the party filed in.

Catya Baratheon raced in with Nymeria, breeches stained with mud, and her braids lopsided. She curtsied clumsily before both queens, before heading directly to Sandor, her favorite uncle. Behind her, her twin, Nymia, walked. She wore a proper dress, her hair was plaited neatly, and she bowed perfectly, addressing her as your Grace.

“Nymia, dear, I am your Aunt first and foremost,” She told her softly, “You need not be so formal with me”

“Yes, your Grace” Nymia murmured, “I mean, Aunt Sansa”

“Catya! Stop running!” Gendry ordered as he walked in with the rest of he and Arya’s children. He held two-year-old Torrhen sat against his hip. “A little help, Arry!” 

Arya just laughed. Gendry sighed and passed her Torrhen anyways. The child cooed and laughed as Arya peppered his face with kisses.

“And where are the rest of them?” Dany questioned.

“With Rickon” Gendry replied, “The dragons are endlessly amusing, it appears”

“Are not” Her second eldest son stated, “Wolves are better”

“Jon, manners” She scolded the seven-year-old. She had named him after her brother in thanks for saving her.

“But they are!”

“Are not!” Daeron retorted.

‘Boys” Jon spoke over them. Both immediately stopped arguing. Daeron, in respect to his father, and Jon, in awe of his uncle.

“Papa! Mama! I petted the dragon!” Came the voice of their five-year-old daughter, Lya. She was holding the hand of her eldest brother, their first son, Robb. He was just about to celebrate twelfth day name, having been conceived just after their marriage.

“Did you really, little wolf?” She questioned, taking the child from Robb, “And where are your other brothers?”

“Here” Rickon grumbled, pulling their three-year-old twin boys into the room, covered in mud. “They wanted to roll around in the mud”

Sandor chuckled under his breath as Rickon struggled with them. Her little brother was due to marry soon as well. With the birth of Lya, he had been released of his obligation to marry Arianna and Aegon’s young daughter. Instead, Lya would marry Daeron, and Rickon would marry Lyra Mormont.

Bran was still in the Neck with Meera, though he would arrive soon to see the rest of his family. Everyone would be there, the entire pack. 

She smiled as she looked around. Lya and Daeron were well suited with each other, both eagerly discussing dragons in the corner. She was glad, it would make their marriage easier, though if they truly wished, they would be allowed to marry someone else. Nymia, ever the little lady, was cooing over Aemon and the Queen. Her twins, the little wolves, were rolling around with Shaggy while Rickon, Arya, and Torrhen watched. The wolf was surprisingly docile with the children. Jon was listening to his namesake in awe at whatever story Jon was telling, while Robb was speaking with Gendry, about swords most likely. She searched the crowd of her family to look for Sandor, and found him with Catya in his arms, and Ayla eagerly displaying her blade. Sandor was most likely holding Catya to keep her from reaching out, again.

Her children, her siblings' children, they would never know war. They would never have to loose a parent or an entire family to a rebellion or betrayal. Her daughters would never be treated as she was, and her sons would never have to lead an army at the age of fourteen. Sometimes, when she awoke in the mornings, it took her a second to realize that her life wasn't a dream, that it was real, and that she was safe. Peace had fallen, and so long as she and Sandor, Arya and Gendry, Jon and Dany breathed, none of their children would have to suffer like they had. They had promised it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it is done! Thank you for all your comments and kudos!


End file.
